Secret Stalker (Should I Mean Valentine?)
by luvsbitca
Summary: Written for Valentine's Day. Stiles wakes up one morning to a dead deer on his back doorstop. He has no idea who left it there but he knows it's not going to be a good thing. It turns out to be the start of a series of macabre 'gifts'. His father is worried and Scott is optimistic that it's not a bad thing. Who is leaving them?
1. Deer

**Title –** Secret Stalker (Should I Mean Valentine?)  
 **Author –** Moonbeam  
 **Summary –** Stiles wakes up one morning to a dead deer on his back doorstop. He has no idea who left it there but he knows it's not going to be a good thing. It turns out to be the start of a series of macabre 'gifts'. His father is worried and Scott is optimistic that it's not a bad thing. Who is leaving them?  
 **Rating –** Teen  
 **Disclaimer –** I don't own anything.  
 **Author's Notes –** Feeling pretty blah at the moment so I'm trying to use this to make me feel better. The chapters are probably going to be short. Hopefully, it doesn't suck…

 **Secret Stalker (Should I Mean Valentine?)**  
By Moonbeam

"Stiles!"

Stiles jolted up in bed and blinked, trying to understand what had woken him up.

"Stiles!"

Stiles eyes followed the sound and sighed. He threw the blanket covering him off and climbed out of bed.

"Stiles," his father yelled again. "Get down here, right now!"

"I'm coming," Stiles yelled, stumbling down the stairs, squinting against the brightness.

Stiles walked into the lounge room but his father wasn't there. "Where are you?"

"Back door."

Stiles walked out through the kitchen, grabbing one of the pancakes that was sitting on a plate, and headed towards his father. "What is it?"

His father was standing in the open back door, letting in the cold air, but Stiles couldn't see what he was yelling about.

"Come here," Stiles' dad said, folding his arms across his chest.

Stiles came to stand behind his father and peered over his shoulder…to see a pool of blood on the back stoop; blood that was pooling out of a deer lying in the snow behind their house.

"What is that?" Stiles asked.

His father turned and looked at him. "I don't know, it appears to be a dead deer that someone has killed and left at our back door. And as you are the person who deals with werewolves, I assume that it's for you."

"None of them would give me a slaughtered deer. This is much more…oh God, Peter's back in town."

"Peter?"

"Yeah."

Stiles' father turned around slowly to look at him, his face deliberately expressionless. "The forty-something old werewolf who killed people and turned Scott into a werewolf?"

Stiles grimaced, realising that he shouldn't have said anything. In his defence, he'd only had about three hours sleep.

"And this man would slaughter a deer and leave it at my nineteen year old son's back doorstep?"

Stiles shrugged. "Maybe it wasn't for me?"

Sam's eyebrows rose sharply. "You think he'd leave it here for _me_?"

Stiles made a face. "I hope not."

"So do I, and I want to have a conversation with Peter Hale."

"Dad."

"No, if he is in Beacon Hills, I want to speak to him."

"Okay," Stiles said, looking at the deer again. "What are we going to do about the deer?"

"You," Sam said, turning around and slapping Stiles on the chest. "Are going to bury it respectfully."

Stiles nodded, already planning on calling Scott.

"Scott isn't you doing it," his father told him. "Breakfast in about ten minutes."

"Scott loves pancakes," Stiles called out, frowning down at the deer.

Scott did love pancakes, and as soon as he heard there were pancakes he agreed to come over and help Stiles bury the body. Stiles was a little insulted that he had had to bribe Scott with pancakes – they were bros and he was fairly certain that came with body burying.

"Why don't we just keep it for the meat?" Scott asked, plate of pancakes in his hand as he stared down at the dead deer.

"We don't know where it came from."

Scott held the plate of pancakes behind his back and sniffed the air. "The meat's fine. I brought my butcher knives, I can cut it up. It's already been bled so half the works been done."

Stiles turned and gaped at Scott who just grinned at him stupidly.

"You are such a dork."

Scott nodded. "I like being a butcher; it's fun."

Stiles smiled. "I'm very happy for you. Are you sure about the deer? I don't know where it came from."

Scott shoved half a pancake in his mouth and sniffed the air again. "Smells like the woods – I think it's just from the Preserve."

"But who left it here?"

Scott shrugged. "I can't smell anything – the snow is masking whoever left it."

"The only person who makes sense is Peter. There haven't been any supernatural threats in over a year."

"Peter's in New Zealand." Scott said, casually.

"What?"

"Peter's in New Zealand." Scott repeated, slowly.

"How do you know that?"

Scott shrugged. "It's better to know where the sociopath might be blowing in from."

"Are you sure he's actually there or is it just…Peter."

"Lydia is sure."

Stiles nodded. "Okay, then who the hell would kill a deer and leave it at my door?"

Scott shrugged. "Don't know. Do you think your dad would be mad if I butchered the deer on the outdoor table?"

"Yes, he would." Sam told them, coming to stand at the door.

"Venison is lower in fat than beef so you can eat it," Stiles offered.

"Make sure you clean up when you're done," Sam said, going upstairs to get dressed. When he came down Scott was in the middle of skinning the deer.

"And we're sure that this has nothing to do with Peter?" Sam asked.

"He is definitely in New Zealand," Scott assured him.

"And the meat is good?" Sam checked, eyeing the work Scott was doing.

Scott's eyes flashed red and he nodded at Sam. "I promise."

Sam nodded. "Then give your mother some of the meat as well."

"Thanks," Scott said with a grin.

"I still want to know who left it here," Sam said.

"So do I," Scott told him, looking at Stiles sideways.

"We'll work it out," Stiles reassured them both.

Sam gave him a firm look. "And you will keep me informed."

"Of course I will."

Sam turned his gaze to Scott. "You will."

Scott nodded quickly. "Of course, Mr Stilinski."

"Good, I'll see you for dinner, Stiles."

"See ya, Dad. Be safe."

Sam kissed Stiles on the head and turned around to leave.

"How are we going to work out who left this here?" Stiles asked, as soon as the sound of his dad's car had faded.

Scott shrugged. "I have no idea. But in our experience don't they always reveal themselves in the end?"

Stiles sighed. "I don't want to deal with this crap."

Scott shrugged at him. "It's free meat, maybe it'll be a good thing."

Stiles sighed at Scott's optimism – he knew this would not end up being a _good_ thing.

 **TBC**


	2. Plants

**Plants**

Stiles woke to someone shaking him. "Wha?"

"Stiles," his father said, shaking him again.

"Dad, what? I was studying all night."

"There is something at the backdoor again."

"Is it another deer?

"I don't actually know what it is, which means it is definitely not for me."

"And here I was thinking that Peter might be my new step-daddy."

Stiles' father shoved him over and Stiles rolled with it, dragging a pillow over his head as he went.

"Stiles!"

"What?" Stiles tried to hold onto the pillow that his father was pulling away from his head.

"Get up, right now."

"But, I was studying, why are you punishing me for this?" Stiles whined.

"The lack of horrible supernatural danger is turning you back into a teenager."

Stiles pulled himself up and out of bed. "I am still a teenager for another four months, I am savouring it."

Sam rolled his eyes at Stiles, giving him a judgemental stare.

"Fine, there is something at the backdoor again?"

"Yes."

Stiles sighed and lead his father out of the room, down the stairs, and to the back door. Then he made an undignified squeaking sound and threw open the door.

"Stiles?" his father asked, staring at his son who had dropped down to his knees in the snow and was delicately stroking the leaves of one of the plants that was lying on the muddy blanket that someone had put outside of his house.

Stiles reached out for one of the other plants and pulled it into his lap – stroking every petal until they seemed to glow.

"Stiles, what are you doing?"

Stiles stroked the long tall, star-shaped petal spike and turned to grin at his father. "This is _chamaelirium luteum_ , it's so hard to find and if I do the right ritual when it is seeding, I can get it to grow a long, trailing root. The root has insanely strong magical powers. People call it False Unicorn Root. And the plant even without the root is really good for banshees."

"Okay," Sam said slowly.

"And this one," Stiles said, pointing out the pink starburst flowers. "This is m _onarda didyma_ and if brewed correctly it can be used to help werewolves deal with wolfsbane poisoning. Those two are rare forms of wolfsbane – _aconitum ferox_ and a _conitum palmatum_."

"Because we need more poisons in the backyard?"

Stiles turned to look at his father with a slightly manic light in his eye. "Exactly."

Sam scrubbed at the back of his neck. "This is why I can't have a dog."

Stiles shrugged. "One day, I'll move out and take all of my poisonous plants with me."

"There's no rush."

Stiles smiled and turned back to the plants in front of him. He pointed to the flowers that looked like daisies. "Those are _arnica montana_ , can be used as protection to werewolves from harm. And these are the best thing – ever!"

"Yes, I agree – poisons and magical plants make me feel so much better about the possibility that you have a stalker."

Stiles shook his head. "Trust me, I am friends with a heap of werewolves – if I had a stalker they would have scented them out already and threatened them off like Wade Wilson with a pizza boy."

Sam sighed. "Right."

"Oh man, this one," Stiles said, stroking the plant with spikes lovingly. "Is _piper cubeba_ which repels demons. This is not an easy plant to find. None of these plants are easy to find – I'm been chasing some of them for ages. Except that one, that's fennel."

"You are very excited about these plants."

"Dad," Stiles said, looking around him happily. Then he froze and made a grab for what looked like ground cover. "Oh man, this is _lycopodium clavatum_."

"Let me guess, it allows you to speak to ghosts."

"No, though if there is a plant that does that, I'm going to have to find it."

"I'm going to make omelettes for breakfast while you keep fondling the plants left at the backdoor by a stranger."

Stiles stood up and rushed past his father.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked.

"I have to go to the garden place. I need to replant all of this. I don't understand why someone would go to all of the trouble of tracking down these plants and then just rip them out of the ground. Unless they don't want me to use them. I've given them all a push with my spark, so they should all be fine until I get back."

"Can I suggest you change out of your pyjamas first?"

Stiles looked down at his pants and nodded. "Yeah, probably for the best. I'll have to swing past Deaton's as well. Wait. What if whoever did this, did it so the plants would die."

"So they protected them from the snow by that blanket?"

Stiles nodded. "Good point."

Stiles rushed upstairs, then to the garden place, before he went to see Deaton and collect some supplies. By the time he'd made it home again, his father was gone but there was an omelette in the oven and a stack of gardening tools just outside the back door.

Lydia walked into the backyard as Stiles was filling each of his pots.

"This is weird," she told him, sitting up on the table and taking a bite out of his omelette.

"That you're stealing my breakfast?"

"No, that someone is leaving you dead deer and magical plants."

"The deer was good – Scott said so, and these plants are going to be so amazing. The False Unicorn Root is going to allow me to help you because-"

Lydia held up a hand. "I don't really care about the plants. Gardening is not one of my things. I just want to talk about who is doing this."

Stiles shrugged. "When it was the deer, I thought maybe it was Peter fucking with me but this makes me wonder if maybe it's someone else."

"Definitely someone else – I double-checked as soon as Scott told us about the deer and he is definitely still in Christchurch."

"Which is in New Zealand?"

Lydia nodded.

"Scott thinks that whoever it is is going to reveal themselves to me eventually."

"Probably, but do you really want to wait?"

"Who do you think it could be?"

Lydia shrugged. "I think you might have a secret admirer."

"Yeah right."

"I'm actually serious," Lydia said, kicking her legs. "It's February, almost Valentine's and between giving you meat that is good for your dad, and plants that you wanted to help with the whole, being a spark thing. Whoever is doing this is wooing you."

Stiles gaped at her.

"Or, it's some supernatural being trying to steal you for their pack."

"What?"

"I think someone is trying to intrigue you, I'm just not sure what they want you for yet."

Stiles looked at the plants around him. "Then they are doing a brilliant job."

Lydia pulled her legs up onto the table and rested her head on her hand. "Okay, tell me all about these plants."

Stiles smiled at her excitedly and started telling her about the plants as he continued to replant them all.

 **TBC**

Little note - I don't normally do this, if people complain about my fics anonymously I just leave it at that but...the person who commented two things: 1 - the Sheriff doesn't have a name in the show and I have always called him Sam. 2 - yes, at the moment while in high school Scott is working part time at the vet. This is set when they are 19 - he now has a 'real' job.


	3. Rabbits

**Rabbits**

Stiles woke up to his alarm and pulled himself out of bed. He caught his father walking out of his bedroom, still doing up the buttons on his uniform.

"You're up?" Sam asked, looking at Stiles disbelievingly.

Stiles shrugged.

"You want to know what your secret admirer left for you, don't you?"

Stiles nodded and turned to head for the stairs.

"I don't think you should get excited about some stranger leaving you things at the back door."

"You're right, let's just not look," Stiles told his father, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.

Sam wrapped his hand around Stiles' shoulder and pushed the younger man towards the back door.

"I knew it," Stiles said. "We're Stilinskis – there is no mystery we can walk away from."

"You couldn't have gotten my genes that enjoy silence?"

Stiles grinned at his father. "Then I wouldn't be the amazing son that you raised."

Sam reached out and ruffled Stiles' hair. "Let's see what your secret admirer has left you."

"Why are you calling it that?"

"Lydia came by the station for lunch yesterday."

"What?"

Sam shrugged. "I think she mainly came to _casually_ talk to Parrish."

"How'd that work out for her?"

"She spent the time talking to me instead."

"Why?" Stiles threw open the back door and stared down at another pool of blood. "They left three dead bunnies. This is not a good present."

"But the dead deer was good?"

"Venison is low in fat."

"And rabbit?" Sam asked, stepping outside and crouching to look at the dead animals.

"Are just gross."

Sam reached out and lifted up on of the rabbit's bodies. "This is the damned rabbit that's been eating my cabbages."

"What?" Stiles looked over at his father's vegetable garden – one of the things he'd taken up when Stiles had gone to university. He had been complaining about the rabbits that were eating his vegetables for the last six weeks.

"See this," Sam said, running his finger around the patch of white fur on the back of one of the rabbits. "I recognise this marking. I think your mysterious stalker killed the rabbits eating my vegetable garden."

Stiles slumped over until he was leaning against the door frame. "Stalker or secret admirer?"

Sam dropped the rabbit back down to the ground and stood up. "I can see the point that Lydia is making – these gifts are very personal to you. And the person who left them has to know you well so they could be someone who is already close to you, or they could be watching you. I'm not discounting either possibility."

Stiles nodded. "I'll bury the bodies after breakfast. I'm going to make the porridge you like."

"I like it when you wake up at a reasonable time."

"Reasonable is subjective, Dad."

"So you keep telling me."

Stiles watched his father walk away to clean up and pulled out his phone – he found the message thread he had for the whole pack and sent off a message.

 **Left me the bodies of three rabbits that have been eating Dad's veggie patch**

He went into the kitchen, ignoring his phone vibrating in his pocket, and made a big pot of porridge. Minutes after he'd dumped the cinnamon into the pot his father walked back into the kitchen and sat down.

"What did the pack say?"

"I haven't checked my phone."

"Why?"

Stiles shrugged. "I don't know what I think of all this so I'm not sure I want to know what everyone else is thinking."

"Then talk to me."

"I don't trust someone leaving me gifts. I don't trust someone who wouldn't just show themselves to me. It makes me suspicious."

"I'm very proud of you," Sam said, smiling at him.

"Because I'm suspicious?"

"Because you're not swept away by the notion of something being romantic because of pop culture when it's questionable."

"What do you think?" Stiles asked, turning the question around on his father.

"I think if someone was stupid enough to stalk you when you're my son, friends with the entire sheriff's department, and part of a very close werewolf pack then they are going to regret it. But, I think someone is trying to get your attention for a very deliberate reason. So, I think you need to think about who it could be."

Stiles sighed. "I've been thinking about it for two days now and there is no one that makes sense. The whole pack is acting normally so it can't be any of them. Peter is definitely in New Zealand so he's not just trying to mess with me, and there have not been signs of any supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills. I don't know who it is."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to set up a camera on the back yard. They have left something three nights running so I think they will tonight as well."

"You're not just going to sit next to the door with that old bat of mine?"

"I tend to fall asleep during stakeouts."

Sam chuckled to himself. "I had that trouble when I was a deputy."

Stiles spooned out the oatmeal into two bowls and they sat down just as someone knocked loudly on the back door. Stiles sighed and went to open it. Scott was standing on the other side transformed, crouched over the rabbits, sniffing the air.

"Anything?"

Scott shook his head.

"Come inside then, we're having oatmeal."

Scott lifted his head, transforming as he went, until he was staring at Stiles with a broad grin.

"It's like you can't feed yourself, it's ridiculous."

Scott shrugged, frowned down at the rabbits, and then followed Stiles into the house for breakfast.

 **TBC**


	4. Mountain Ash

**Mountain Ash**

Stiles yawned and turned over in bed, then yelped.

"Liam, what the hell?"

Liam smiled at him. "I came to catch your stalker."

"And were in my bedroom like a creeper?"

"No, I was on the roof for most of the night."

"And now?" Stiles asked, pushing himself up and out of bed.

"Your dad sent me up when he woke up."

"So there wasn't anything left downstairs?" Stiles asked, deciding not to think about Liam being found by his father.

"I was on the roof all night and I couldn't hear or see anyone."

"Why didn't you just tell me you were coming and you could have waited inside?"

Liam shook his head at Stiles. "I wanted it to be a secret so your stalker wouldn't know to expect me."

"You're on the stalker side?"

Liam nodded. "There is no good reason that they would be giving you presents without telling you who they were. They can only be up to something bad."

Stiles smiled. "I have been such an excellent influence on you."

Liam sighed and flopped down onto Stiles' bed. "Can I have a nap here?"

"Sure, I'll save you some breakfast."

"Breakfast?" Liam asked, head lifting off the pillow.

"Fine, I'll bring you something up."

"You rock!"

Stiles left Liam in his bed and left the room to find his father downstairs.

"Your pack is outside," Sam told him.

"No, Liam's upstairs sleeping in my bed."

"I'm not all that sure what to make of that," his father told him, frowning. "But, that's not what I'm talking about."

"What?"

"Go look," Sam told him, nodding towards the back door.

Stiles turned around and walked towards the back of the house. "Liam said no one came here last night."

"He is wrong," Kira said, as soon as Stiles pushed the door open.

Stiles stepped out of the house to find the whole pack, minus Liam, standing around the table. On top of it, was something wrapped in a thick white sheet.

"What is that?" Stiles asked.

Malia flashed her teeth at the bundle. "It smells dangerous."

Stiles walked over and reached out for the sheet but each of the werewolves around the table growled at him. "Oh, get over yourselves."

"Stiles," Scott said, stepping between Stiles and the table. "You don't know what it is, and Malia's right – it smells dangerous."

Stiles nodded. "Can you trust me, please?"

Scott nodded and stepped to the side.

Stiles reached out and poked the sheet with a single finger. He gasped and pulled his finger back, starting to smile.

"What?" Malia shouted, yanking his arm towards her and peering at his finger.

"It's dangerous but not like you think," Stiles told her, pulling his arm back and smoothing a hand along the sheet. "It's been soaked in salted eucalyptus oil."

The pack stared at him with confusion.

"It's-"

Scott grabbed his hand. "Before you unwrap it, there are a couple of things you should see."

"What?"

Scott dragged him around and showed him three different parts where bite marks were visible.

"It's not a great shock that it's a werewolf," Stiles said, reaching out to touch the puncture marks with his spark but he couldn't feel anything.

"I can't smell anything either," Scott told him. "None of us can."

"And Liam was on the roof all night," Stiles said. "He didn't sense anyone."

"Liam's here?" Mason asked, looking around.

"He'd asleep in my bed," Stiles explained.

Danny gave him a look.

"Shut up, Danny."

The other man laughed. "Open the damned sheet; I need to get to work."

Stiles nodded and pulled back the sheet. "Holy fucking shit."

"It's a log," Scott said, voice obviously confused.

"It can't _just_ be a log," Lydia said.

"It's not," Stiles told them. "This is Tasmanian mountain ash."

Malia sighed. "I don't understand."

"This is a brilliant present. It's a stronger version of the mountain ash we normally use. It's the same type as Deaton's used in his clinic. I'm going to build the best fucking baseball bat ever."

"Not this again," Danny groaned. "I can't listen to you wax poetic about this bat again. I'm going to work."

"Your support is shocking," Stiles yelled at his back.

"So," Malia said, peering at the wood. "This is good?"

"It is dangerous. If I hit you with a bat made of this it would hurt – you."

Malia smiled. "Your dad is making waffles. I'm going in to eat."

"'kay." Stiles said, watching her walk away.

"So, they have given you something good. Again," Kira said. "I'm on the side of secret admirer."

"Me too," Lydia said.

"I still don't trust anyone who hides who they are while giving me amazingly well preserved mountain ash."

"You're so weird," Mason told him. "I'm going to eat waffles."

"Thanks."

"We should all eat waffles," Scott said with a broad smile.

"I have to re-wrap this and put it somewhere dark and dry until it's ready to be worked."

"You don't know how to work with wood," Lydia pointed out.

"I know," Stiles said. "It's was the slightest flaw in my plan before. Now, it's the most glaring one."

Scott threw his arm over Stiles' shoulder. "I can dress the flesh of most animals people eat. I'm sure we can work it out."

Stiles nodded. "We totally can."

"They are going to lose fingers," Lydia said, hopping off the table. "Let's go and get waffles, Kira."

Kira and Lydia left them alone to sort out the mountain ash.

"Do you have any idea?" Scott asked, watching Stiles carefully re-wrap the log.

"None," Stiles sighed. "No one makes any sense."

"At least we have waffles."

"And Mason is going to glare at me while Liam naps in my bed."

"It's all positive!" Scott said, giving Stiles a very sarcastic two thumbs up.

"Thank god for waffles."

 **TBC**


	5. Confusion

**Confusion**

Stiles woke up a start, and a groan. Someone's foot was jammed against his lower back, someone else was using his arm for a pillow and he could no longer feel it, and someone was snoring. He sighed and opened his eyes slowly. The pack was surrounding him, and he loved them all, but he hated sharing beds with them. Stiles carefully, and slowly, climbed out of bed around the bodies that were hemming him in. He made it without waking anyone up and slipped out of the room. His father was still asleep, he had the day off, so Stiles crept down the stairs and out through the kitchen and to the back door.

Scott had volunteered to stand guard the night before to see if he could catch Stiles' mysterious gift giver but the whole pack had spent the night because they were all too nosy to stay at home. Stiles stopped in the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee. He was curious about what would be outside but he was also exhausted – the gifts were excellent but they were utterly messing with Stiles' preferred study methods.

"Coffee," Lydia said, pressing her body into Stiles' back.

"It's mine."

"Stiles," Lydia said, voice ingratiating.

Stiles huffed out a sigh and pressed his mug into her hand before he started making another cup.

"You're my favourite."

Stiles laughed. "I know you're talking to the coffee."

"You make really good coffee."

"I know, there is this hyper-intense woman in my housing dorm who pays me to make her coffee every morning. I kind of have a crush on her."

"I'm not touching that," Lydia told him, making a grab for his new mug. Stiles stepped to the side and hipped Lydia out of the way. He picked up the mug protectively and glared at Lydia.

"I'm going to check outside," Stiles said, taking his coffee with him. "Make your own second cup."

Stiles could feel Lydia's eyes on him as he walked from the kitchen and out the back door. He turned around and looked up at the roof where Scott was asleep – dead to the world asleep. He was snoring and Stiles was almost certain that the line of drool hanging from his mouth had frozen in the cold. Stiles turned his back on Scott and looked for whatever the unknown werewolf had left this time but he couldn't see anything. Stiles looked over his shoulder at Scott and wondered if the alpha had managed to scare the other werewolf off. Stiles ducked down and looked under the table to see if it was there but there was nothing. He started towards the grass – wondering if maybe the werewolf had just been discouraged from coming too close to the house by Scott. He kicked something as he was moving from the brick paving to grass and when he looked down he saw an odd lump of metal lying on the ground. Stiles frowned as he bent to pick it up. He dropped it almost immediately when electricity sparked between the object and his fingers. Stiles crouched down in the snow and pressed his finger to the object – prepared for the arc of magic that passed from the object to his skin. Stiles had to pull his finger away again – the power of the item was too strong for Stiles too hold it. He yanked his t-shirt off over his head, shivering at the cold air, and wrapped it around the object before he turned back to the house. He scooped a few rocks out of a pot on the way and threw them up at Scott – startling the werewolf and waking him up.

"I found it," Stiles called up to him. "Come inside and I'll make French toast."

Scott jumped from the roof and landed next to Stiles. "Excellent. No one came last night."

Stiles held out the t-shirt and unveiled the item. "Then I'd love to know how this appeared."

Scott got close and peered down at it. "What is it?"

"I don't know," Stiles admitted. "But it has power."

Scott looked up at him. "Power?"

Stiles shrugged. "I'm not sure. It almost feels familiar but I've never seen it before."

"They've never left something so unusual before," Lydia said, looking at them through the back door.

"Maybe they thought you would know what it is," Scott offered.

"Or, it's a puzzle," Liam called out from above them. Stiles looked up to find most of the pack hanging out of the window and looking down at them.

Stiles couldn't help the sigh that escaped. "Kitchen. Do not wake my dad up."

"He's still snoring," Scott informed him as he clapped Stiles on the shoulder and walked into the house. "Now, get in the kitchen, and make me some French toast."

Stiles heard a woo from upstairs and followed Scott into the house. By the time he made it there the entire pack was huddled around the kitchen bench and looking at him expectantly. Stiles laid out his t-shirt on the counter, rolling the object off, and then pulled his shirt back on.

"This is what they left?" Mason asked, reaching out to touch the metallic object.

"Don't," Stiles said. "It's powerful."

Mason pulled his hand back.

"What are you going to do with it?" Danny asked.

Stiles shrugged. He turned around and pulled a loaf of bread out then started preparing the French toast. He wished he had another loaf – that was not going to be enough to feed the pack.

"You should go and see Deaton," Malia said, glaring down at the object on the bench.

"I'll go after breakfast," Stiles said, smiling at her. She returned the smile and moved away from the pack to sit down at the table. Stiles' eyes left her and dropped down to the metal object still sitting on the bench. He felt his finger itch and he wanted to touch it again. He shook his head and turned around, focussing on cooking, but his finger kept itching and he was thinking about the strange thing that his secret gift giver had left for him. While the pack was falling onto the large stack of French toast, Stiles paused and reached out for to touch it again, his fingertips tingling before he'd even touched the cold metal. When he made contact his breath caught in his chest. A moment later a hand wrapped around his wrist. He looked up to see Malia frowning at him.

"What?" Stiles asked.

"You said it was powerful?"

"Yeah."

"Then should you be touching it, if you don't know what it is?"

Stiles looked down at the object, and his fingers – still itching and wanting to touch, and nodded at her.

"Come and eat."

Stiles nodded. Malia reached out for a tea towel and threw it over the object before she planted a hand between his shoulder blades and pushed him towards the table. Stiles sat down and Liam upended two pieces of toast onto his plate. Stiles smiled at the younger man and ate in silence – letting the chattering of the rest of the pack swirl around him while he tried to work out what the object was. It was some sort of metal but even though the outside was smooth and had obviously been worked on it had no shape – like an impressionist sculpture. Stiles' finger still itched – wanting to touch it again. Stiles felt like it was _for him_ in the same way that the rest of the presents had been for him. He just didn't understand it and that in itself was something Stiles loved – he so enjoyed a mystery. He just hoped that this one wouldn't lead to death and devastation for he and the pack.

As soon as he was done, Stiles left the pack to clean up and went upstairs for a quick shower and to change. Only Scott and Malia were still sitting around the table when he made it back downstairs.

"Don't touch it again, Stiles," Malia said to him, standing up.

"It's going to be fine," Stiles said, partially to stop her worrying and partially because he believed it.

Malia shook her head. "I have an appointment or I'd go with you."

Stiles walked over and pressed a kiss to Malia's temple. "I promise it will be okay."

"I don't trust anyone who skulks about in the shadows."

Stiles smiled at her choice of words. "I'll call you as soon as we've been to see Deaton."

Malia nodded grudgingly and threw her arms around him in a sudden hug, then she pulled away just as quickly and slipped out of the room.

"Do you think we should be worried?" Scott asked.

Stiles shrugged. "I don't know, but it's pulling at me."

"Then we should get going."

Stiles nodded. He left his father a note and wrapped the tea towel around the object before they left for Deaton's.

"What do you mean, it's pulling at you?" Scott asked, when they were driving.

Stiles shrugged. "My fingers are itching and I just want to touch it again."

"That's worrying."

Stiles shrugged. "It doesn't feel worrying."

Scott nodded and focussed on the road.

Deaton smiled at them when they walked into the vet's office. Stiles put the tea towel down on the front bench and unwrapped the object. Deaton frowned and waved them through to his office. Stiles laid the tea towel out on the desk and resisted the desire to reach out and touch the item again.

Deaton shoved his hands in his pockets and peered down at the object. "Who's touched this, Mr Stilinski?"

"No one but me."

"Good."

"Why?" Scott asked.

"This is," Deaton scrunched up his nose and blew on the object, "a very powerful object."

"But what is it?" Stiles asked.

"It's a channelling stone."

"It's metal." Scott pointed out.

Deaton smiled. "I never said it was made of stone."

Stiles bit down on his desire to growl – an unfortunate habit that the pack had given him. Deaton was never going to change and Stiles kept telling himself to accept that about the vet but it never failed to leave him feeling frustrated.

"So," Stiles said. "It's a channelling stone…"

"Yes."

Stiles nodded, trying to remember anything he'd read about them.

"This one is very old," Deaton said. "What happens when you touch it?"

"It shocks me a little," Stiles explained. "Like static electricity but when I actually touch it it's too much."

Deaton made a face.

"Where did it come from?" Stiles asked.

Deaton walked out of the room and came back a few minutes later with a jar of sawdust.

"He wants to touch it," Scott let out at a rush.

"What does he mean, Mr Stilinski?"

"My finger tips are itching to touch it again."

Deaton nodded and waved at the object. "Then touch it."

"Is that wise?" Scott asked. "We don't even know where it came from."

"Yes," Deaton nodded. "You explained the nature of this gift on the phone. But the person who has been leaving them has not been malevolent as of yet, and has gone to quite a lot of trouble if the end result was to hurt you."

Stiles nodded and reached out to touch the channelling stone, he felt the spark when his fingers were just a few centimetres away from it and it grew as his fingers got closer until he pressed his fingertips to the metal and found it warm instead of cold.

"Pick it up," Deaton prompted.

Stiles wrapped his fingers around the item, his heartbeat thumping in his chest. As soon as he picked it up the metal under his skin seemed to start vibrating. Stiles couldn't pull his eyes away from the stone.

"Fascinating," Deaton said.

From the corner of Stiles' eye he could see the vet unscrewing the lid of the jar he had and then pouring the sawdust over his hand. He gasped when it landing on his skin and stuck – held like it was magnetised to his flesh.

"What the fuck?" Scott asked, stepping closer.

"This stone was buried beneath the Nemeton."

Nothing else could have made Stiles drop the channelling stone like that. The sawdust immediately fell from his hand when the contact was severed and Stiles took rushed steps backwards until his back was pressed to the wall.

"Stiles?" Scott asked.

"Nothing good has ever come from that tree." Stiles said vehemently.

"That's not true," Deaton defended, screwing the lid back on the jar.

"I was possessed by a Nogitsune because of that tree," Stiles pointed out.

"Because the tree was used to seal in the evil spirit not because the tree is evil. The tree is merely a representation of the supernatural that orbits it."

"It called supernatural creatures to it."

"Yes, it did," Deaton said, sweeping up the sawdust on the table. "Because the balance that should exist was out of balance. This channelling stone was buried in the roots of the Nemeton, the sawdust is from that tree and that is where I think you need to go for your answers."

"Who owned this stone?" Stiles asked, refusing to get any closer to the object until he knew as much as possible.

"It would have been owned by the coven that planted the tree originally."

"That old?" Scott asked.

"Yes." Deaton said decisively.

"I would encourage you to visit the tree; you may find your answers there. This is not a gift like the others."

"Stiles?" Scott asked, turning to look at him.

Stiles looked at the channelling stone for a long time and then nodded, walking over to the desk and wrapping the stone in the tea towel. "Let's go and visit the Nemeton."

"Good luck, Mr Stilinski."

Stiles nodded at the vet and walked out of the room. He didn't speak on the drive to the Preserve and Scott kept sneaking glances at him.

"Stiles," Scott said, as soon as he turned the car off.

"I trust whoever is sending the presents less now," Stiles said. "But they want me here for some reason and I need to know what it is."

"Are you sure? We could call the whole pack and-"

"No," Stiles said, "we're doing this now. Come on."

Scott nodded and they started trekking towards the Nemeton. Stiles started to notice that the closer they got, the warmer the channelling stone grew in his hand and that his fingers were tingling constantly – he couldn't stop thinking about unwrapping the stone and touching it again, wrapping his hand around it and pulling it close. The more he wanted it, the more he knew it wasn't something he should do. They arrived at the site of the tree and Stiles couldn't stand the vibration anymore. He dropped the tea towel and the channelling stone on the ground. A breeze blew through the trees and unwrapped the stone.

"This is not a good thing," Stiles said, walking towards the underground entrance.

"Should I go first?" Scott asked, reaching out to lay a hand on Stiles' shoulder to hold him back.

"No," Stiles said, smiling back over his shoulder. "I think I have to go first."

Scott didn't look happy but he nodded and followed Stiles to the roots of the Nemeton.

Stiles climbed down and into the cavern with the Nemeton and froze. Standing among the roots was a pure white wolf staring directly at Stiles. Scott stumbled in behind Stiles, and the wolf started to growl.

 **TBC**


	6. The White Wolf

Sorry it's short - I wanted to update but I'm time poor. Enjoy...

 **The White Wolf**

Scott grabbed onto Stiles and tried to pull him back. The white wolf's growl dropped down to a more dangerous pitch and its eyes flashed green. Stiles tried to shake Scott off but the werewolf held on and kept trying to pull him back.

"Scott, stop it." Stiles said, trying to get away.

"No," Scott said furiously, yanking roughly on Stiles' arm.

Stiles hissed even though he tried to keep it in and the white wolf jumped towards them and snarled, eyes locked on Scott. "If you don't let me go," Stiles said, trying to keep his voice calm, "the werewolf is going for your throat."

"I'm not letting you go."

"Scott!" Stiles said, roughly. "Let me go!"

The wolf snarled again as though it agreed with Stiles.

"I can't smell it," Scott said, rhythmically tugging on Stiles' arm. "Or sense it at all. If I couldn't see it, I would swear there was nothing there."

Stiles twisted his arm down and around managing to loosen Scott's hold just enough for him to slither out.

"Stiles," Scott said, making another grab for him. "We need to leave."

"No," Stiles said, darting out of Scott's reach.

The wolf immediately ran between them, its tail batting at Stiles' leg. The beast faced Scott and growled its warning loudly.

Scott looked at Stiles over the back of the wolf and looked so exasperated Stiles wanted to apologise but the white wolf had turned its back to Stiles which meant that either it trusted Stiles or it _was_ trying to protect him. Scott bared his teeth at the wolf and Stiles groaned.

"Scott," Stiles groaned. "Please don't make it worse."

"Stiles," Scott said, glaring at him. "I don't think you understand. I can't sense this wolf at all. I can't smell it, I can't sense it – not its heartbeat," Stiles dropped a hand gently down to pat at the wolf's side and he could feel the steady, strong thump of a heartbeat. "I can see that it is breathing but I can't hear it." Stiles took a moment to really listen and realised that he couldn't hear the wolf either but he could see the curling puffs of cold breath around it's, still bared, teeth.

"Smell?" Stiles asked.

Scott shook his head. "I can smell you, I can smell the earth and woods, I can smell scat and the worms in the soil, but there are no wolf smells."

Stiles looked down at the wolf in front of him; he could see his own hand moving with the rise and fall of the animal's chest. "I can feel it."

"And I'm wary that if it goes for my throat it will ripe my windpipe out," Scott said, "but all of my werewolf, and human, senses are telling me it is not there."

Stiles nodded.

"What can you sense?" Scott asked.

Stiles frowned at him. "What?"

Scott rolled his eyes. "You're a spark…"

Stiles dropped his head, shaking it slowly. "Right."

"Well?"

"Patience," Stiles offered and dropped down to his knees. He closed his eyes, resting both hands on the wolf so that its heart sat between his palms and he focussed inside himself – down deep, below the confusion at finding a strange wolf, beneath the ADHD-induced flittering of his mind between options, below the heavy beat of his own heartbeat. To the little, flickering part of his core that reached out for him at the slight touch and burst out of his palms, surrounding him and the wolf in front of him. He still couldn't sense anything – like there was a wall between him and the living, breathing beast that he _knew_ was there. He knew it was there so he pushed – he pushed his spark and the wolf let out a short, sharp, painful yelp. Stiles yanked his hands back, eyes flying open as he watched the wolf warily. The wolf turned and dropped its head, watching Stiles carefully.

"I'm sorry," Stiles told the wolf. "I was just trying to work out who you are and what happened to you."

The wolf growled at him, the sound a little more gentle than it had been so Stiles assumed he was forgiven and stood up. As soon as he was straight he slammed his hand into his face.

"Stiles?"

"I know who the wolf is."

"What?"

 **TBC**


	7. Cursed

**Cursed**

"Oh my God," Stiles said, dropping down to his knees in front of the white wolf.

What?" Scott asked – voice incessant as he stepped closer.

"I know who the wolf is," Stiles told him, sliding his hands through the white fur on either side of the wolf's muzzle.

"Stiles," Scott said, ignoring the increasingly loud growling to reach out for Stiles. The wolf pulled away from Stiles to stare directly at Scott.

Stiles waved Scott off. "Don't touch me, it annoys the wolf."

"I don't want you to be mauled by it."

Stiles turned his head so that Scott could see him roll his eyes. "I just told you, I know who the wolf is and he's not growling at _me_ , he's only growling at you."

"Stiles," Scott said, after a deep breath, in a calm voice. "I don't understand why you're not more worried about this."

Scott growled quietly in frustration when Stiles didn't immediately get more worried.

The white wolf bared its teeth and Stiles could no longer hear the noise it was making but he could feel Scott backing away. Stiles reached out slowly, catching the wolf's eyes and resting his hands on the animal's jowls.

"Derek?"

The wolf turned to him, his eyes flashing blue, and Stiles watched the fur under his hands turn black. As quickly as the change happened it faded. Stiles said, "Derek," again and the fur again changed black. The change seemed to be linked to the name. It hadn't happened before but he hadn't known who the wolf was before.

"It is you," Stiles said, smiling brightly.

"How can you be sure?" Scott called.

Stiles turned around, pressed his side into the wolf and looked at his best friend. "Who else could it be? Think about it – Derek knew about my drunk plan to make a mountain ash, spark infused baseball bat that I could only make with Tasmanian mountain ash. He knows how important my father is to me, and who else do we know that has actually been poisoned by Indian Aconite?"

"That doesn't mean it's Derek."

"The fur?" Stiles asked, saying Derek's name again; the fur turned black. "And lastly, what other werewolf do we know that can transform into an actual wolf?"

Scott frowned. "What the hell happened to him?"

Stiles turned around and ran his hand down the wolf's spine – leaving behind a trail of black that transformed back to white quickly. Stiles frowned, and did it again and the fur turned.

"Why is it doing that?" Scott asked.

"I don't know," Stiles said, distracted as he continued to pat the wolf. "Curse I'd say."

The wolf turned around, and dropped down until he was lying down next to Stiles, its nose sitting on his leg so that he could still watch Scott. Derek was obviously relaxing under Stiles' hand.

"Can you fix him?" Scott asked.

Stiles shook his head. "That's what annoyed him before. If I try to push with my spark it hurts him. Whoever cursed him did not want it to be easy to fix him."

Scott's eyebrows quirked up. "Derek does have a skill in pissing people off."

"It's not funny, Scott, he didn't travel here from South America as-"

"You knew where he was?" Scott asked, interrupting.

Stiles nodded. "He went down to be with Cora. And he's been travelling around a bit but mainly South America."

"I didn't know that."

"Okay," Stiles said, moving on quickly. "He didn't travel all of that way as a white wolf. Which means someone cursed him closer to here than to there and if that's the case then there might be something happening in Beacon Hills we don't know about."

Scott folded his arms across his chest and stared down at the wolf next to Stiles.

"Obviously he's been trying to get our attention."

"By giving you presents?"

Stiles shrugged. "I think there must be a reason but Derek can answer all of that for us – first we need to work out how to turn him back and I think we need to take him to Deaton for that."

Scott nodded.

"I'm going to try and encourage him out and to my car but I don't think having you there is going to help."

"I'm not leaving you alone with him."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

Derek tensed under Stiles' hand. Stiles looked up at Scott and silently tried to tell his best friend that he appreciated the protection but he didn't need it.

"You say that it's Derek," Scott said. "But, you don't know that."

"His fur changed while I used his name."

"That could be a trick."

"Yes, it could," Stiles agreed. "But, I believe that this is Derek and he's not going to hurt me. So, I need you to run to Deaton's instead."

Scott opened his mouth to argue and Stiles tried to think of the right things to say to make Scott leave him alone with Derek.

"I can protect myself," Stiles to him. "You know that."

"Yes, but we have no idea who cursed Derek. They might come after you if you're trying to save him."

"I think Derek and I will be able to fend them off."

Scott looked down at Derek. "He didn't do a good job last time."

"But between his werewolf abilities and my spark we can handle anything."

"I don't want to say I don't have faith in you but I'm worried that whoever it is, is too powerful for the two of you."

Stiles grinned widely at Scott. "I think I'm going to be okay. I have mountain ash and liquid wolfsbane in my pocket so we'll be okay. I promise."

Scott looked unconvinced but then he nodded and backed out of the cave. "I'm going to be following the jeep."

"I wouldn't expect any less," Stiles said.

He gave Scott a few minutes to move away – he wouldn't get far but the more relaxed that Derek was the easier that Stiles thought it would be to get the wolf away from the Nemeton. He turned to look down at Derek and smiled.

"Derek," the fur turned black where he was petting and the wolf looked up at him. The strangely bright green eyes made Stiles stomach twist – he wanted to be looking at Derek's real green eyes or his electric blue wolf's ones. He pushed the thoughts to the side – he wouldn't get to see them until he got Derek to Deaton and they sorted this out. "Derek, were going to leave here," the wolf growled. "It's going to be okay – I'm coming with you but we have to go and see Deaton. If we are going to turn you back into yourself we need his help."

Stiles took the lack of reaction as a positive sign and stood up slowly, stretching out, and then starting toward the entrance. The wolf bared its teeth at Stiles but it slowly, carefully started inching towards Stiles, and the cold air that was chilling his back. Stiles waited patiently for Derek to make it all the way to him before he moved any farther out into the open air. Stiles slowly led Derek away from the Nemeton. As the wind picked up, coming in with a bitter chill, Derek disappeared in front of him. He was staring at the wolf one minute – his fur almost blending in with the snow on the ground and the next the wolf was gone. Stiles reached out and dropped down to his knees and his hand collided with the side of Derek's fur. He froze, running his hand down the line of Derek's body. A body he couldn't see.

"What the fuck?" Stiles asked.

Derek's nose nuzzled at Stiles' shoulder and suddenly things started to make sense to the human.

"Scott," Stiles called out, looking down at the space where he could feel wolf's fur but couldn't see him anymore.

"What?" Scott yelled, rushing back. "Where is Derek?"

"He's still standing in front of me," Stiles explained, running his hand down the wolf's spine. "I think I know why he's been trying to get our attention and how he got past both you and Liam."

"He can't be there," Scott argued.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Trust me, I'm touching him still. You need to go and get Deaton and bring him here. Explain everything – hopefully he knows something about what is going on. Tell the rest of the pack but tell them not to come." Scott nodded. "No, I'm worried you heard tell them not to come and what I mean is – order them not to come."

"Okay."

"Good," Stiles said, turning back towards the Nemeton. As soon as they got close enough to feel the power of the tree stump, Derek reappeared and Scott swore behind him. "I told you," Stiles called over his shoulder and followed Derek back underground.

 **TBC**

Hope that answered some questions. Only another couple of chapters left but they are all planned out. I hope you've enjoyed them.


	8. Deaton

**Deaton**

Stiles settled against the wall, Derek lying down between him and the entrance. Stiles let out a jaw-cracking yawn and looked down at the wolf, who had its eyes closed, gentle puffs of moist, hot air hitting his knee.

"You have no right to be resting," Stiles told Derek, as he absent-mindedly rested his hand on the wolf's head. "You have seriously messed with my studying time – I'm the one who's exhausted."

Derek looked at him, rubbing his nose against Stiles' knee.

"What happened to you?" Stiles asked, knowing he wasn't going to be getting an answer. "You are supposed to still be in South America. Why didn't you tell me you were coming home? If you'd told me, I would have known it was you faster. We talk at least every week – and I spoke to you just a few days before all of this started. You must have known you were coming back, why didn't you tell me? And of course, only you could get in trouble within probable hours of arriving in Beacon Hills when everything here has been so calm in the last two and a half years. What happened? Who did this to you? And what were they trying to hide? The only reason to make to transform you to an unknown wolf, who cannot be seen outside of the direct power of this Nemeton, is to silence you."

Derek's head was heavy on Stiles' knee and the wolf scratched at his calf for a moment – not to hurt him but…Stiles wasn't sure if it was wishful thinking but he thought it might be encouragement or some sign that Stiles was on the right track.

"What I really don't understand," he said, wriggling until he was comfortable, "is how you managed to locate all of those gifts to intrigue me."

Derek's head turned away, his back to Stiles. But, he wasn't tense so Stiles wasn't worried that he'd turned away from him because there was danger.

"So, you don't want to talk about that?" Stiles asked, running distracted fingers through the fur on top of Derek's head. "I will ask you all of those questions after we transform you back. You're not getting away with it too easily, Derek."

The wolf growled quietly – Stiles felt it more than heard it.

Stiles laughed. "Okay, calm down. Back to why and who. I'm just going to be quiet and puzzle through it." And that was exactly what Stiles intended to do.

Then with a low, warning growl Derek woke him up. He opened his eyes to find Derek's tail almost brushing against his sternum while the wolf was growling at the door.

"Scott?" Stiles called out.

"Yes," Scott called back.

"The crow flies slower at night," Stiles said, smiling at the old 'is everything okay' signal they had come up with years ago.

"And the butterfly swims during the sunset," Scott called back, laughter heavy in his tone.

"Okay," Stiles called out loudly, gently pressing on Derek's rump and pushing him to the side. "Just give me a second."

Derek growled louder but allowed himself to be pushed. Stiles struggled up, groaning when he realised his backside was completely asleep. He finally managed to make it all the way up and stumbled over to the entrance; outside stood Scott and Deaton. He waved them both in and kept his body between them and Derek. The low level, warning growl shifted to a much more terrifying one and Stiles twisted around and dropped to his knees in front of Derek.

"You have to stop," he told Derek. "Deaton is here to help you, so you have two options – one, if he was the one who cursed you; jump over my shoulder and attack him." Stiles paused but Derek didn't make any move to jump over his head. "Good, then we are going with two, stop growling at friends who want to help. That goes for Scott too."

Derek bared his teeth, obviously displeased, but he stopped growling.

"He doesn't recognise us?" Deaton asked.

"He only seems to recognise Stiles, or at least Stiles is the only one he trusts," Scott confirmed.

Deaton made a little noise – it was the very frustrating one that told Stiles he knew something from that piece of information but had no interest in sharing it. And, Stiles knew that asking would not help at all.

"Have you seen anything like this before?" Stiles asked, laying a hand on Derek's back.

Deaton's eyes narrowed at Derek, taking a careful step forward, and another when Derek didn't warn him off. He walked all the way over and crouched down in front of Derek. "Even his eyes are different."

Stiles crouched down too and caught Derek's attention and then placed his hands on either side of the wolf's head and said his name. The fur under his hands darkening again while his eyes flashed blue. "Not all of the time," Stiles explained.

"And that happens whenever you say his name?"

"Yes, and for a little while after," Stiles said, running his hand down the line of Derek's spine. "And I'm hoping that all of this touching isn't going to horrify Derek when he's back to himself."

"I doubt that is going to be a problem," Deaton said, pulling something out of the bag he was carrying. It was a fine, off-white, powder and he poured some into his hand. Stiles could smell it, though he couldn't identify it, and it made him want to sneeze. He forced down the desire and watched as Deaton cupped it in one hand and then, quick as a flash, clapped his hands together causing the powder to fly into the air and then settle on Derek. The wolf sneezed, and Stiles could hold his own in anymore and sneezed himself which unsettled the powder. But like an iron shaving near a loadstone it settled one again on Derek's head. This time when it settled it flashed pink for a moment, so quickly that Stiles could have convinced himself he hadn't seen it if he hadn't been looking for something.

"What does that mean?" Stiles asked, looking up at Deaton

"What does what mean?" Scott asked, frowning at them both.

"The flash of pink from the powder," Stiles explained.

"You saw pink?" Deaton asked, talking over Scott who was asking the same thing.

"Yes, what did you see?" Stiles asked.

"I saw a flash of yellow," Deaton said. "We need to get the rest of the pack here. It will require all of them to reverse this curse without the original caster."

"You know what they did?" Scott asked.

"It is a concealment curse – easy enough but this one is stronger than any I have seen and, I believe, tied directly to the fact that Derek can transform to a full wolf. Not a skill many werewolves have. I, myself, have only known three and all were Hales."

"What do we need to do?" Stiles asked.

"I need the pack, connected, within a circle of mountain ash while you and I recite a spell that will open the pack's eyes to truth. All of them seeing Derek as he truly is should be enough to break the curse."

"Should?" Stiles asked, not liking the element of uncertainty to the plan.

"There are no guarantees when we are dealing with a curse cast by an unknown magical person."

Stiles didn't like it but he knew that Deaton was right. "Scott, get the pack here."

"It's the night before a full moon," Deaton said, standing up. "It would be better if it was tomorrow but-"

"No," Stiles interrupted. "We need to know what Derek knows, and why someone expended so much energy to curse him."

Deaton nodded. "I need to go back to the surgery to collect supplies."

"I'll go with you," Scott said, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "Just in case whoever did this wants to stop us."

"Good idea," Stiles said. "If you have your knife, Deaton, I'll carve containment and reverberation sigils on the walls where I can."

"I shall return with paint as well," Deaton told him, grabbing his bag, pulling out the knife to hand to Stiles, and leaving the underground area.

"The pack will be arriving soon," Scott told Stiles.

Stiles nodded and smiled. "We'll be fine here."

"Yeah, the fact you were asleep when I came back fills me with confidence."

Stiles smiled. "I feel much more rested now. And I have a job to do. Plus, I was just working though the problem in my head."

Scott gave him a disbelieving look and then followed Deaton out. Stiles rubbed a hand over Derek's head and then set himself to carving sigils in any wood he could find that wasn't the Nemeton. Derek followed him, always standing between Stiles and the entrance.

 **TBC**

I hope you enjoy, I would love to know if you did. Couple more chapters to go.


	9. Pack Magic

**Pack Magic**

Stiles stepped back to look at the first sigil and smiled. "What do you think?" He looked down at Derek who just stared back at him. "No comment? Well, at least you're not glaring at me so I'm going to count it as a win."

The wolf made a quiet noise in the back of his throat and Stiles smiled before he moved on to the next sigil. The area was too quiet, there was a slight whistle of wind from outside but Stiles found himself constantly straining to see if he could hear something else, or something more, so he started to talk.

"These sigilla," he explained quietly to Derek, "are going to trap the spell that Deaton and I are going to do. They are a combination sigil – it's funny really, the people at university would lose their mind over the possibility of something like this that actually works. It was all history and theory with a side of 'none of this is real' but threaded through everything was all of this amazing truth that no one in the class even seemed aware of. Part of this sigil is Sumerian – used by _Nins_ to contain the traces of their work from seeping out and affecting others. But the rest of this sigil was used by the druid priests of Gaul originally. It was used to pull the power of the druids and their words and then amplify them like resonance ripples in a pond. The two sigilla came together in the Middle Ages in Brittany in the days before Anne married the French King and the church solidified its hold."

Derek froze next to Stiles, pressing his body tightly into the human's leg. Stiles froze, shifting his hold on the knife in his hand and turning to look at the entrance.

"Who's there?" Stiles asked, voice just a little above his normal tone – loud enough to have caught the attention of any of his pack but probably not enough to warn the person who had cursed Derek.

"Stiles," came back the call and Stiles let his body relax – recognising Liam's voice.

"Come in, but don't get too close," Stiles warned, wondering what Derek would make of Liam.

"Why?" Liam asked, stepping into the room.

Derek took two steps forward and started growling – skipping right past the low warning growl and straight to the 'going for the jugular' one. Stiles dropped his hand down on Derek's head and petted at his white fur.

"Because I have a guard werewolf," Stiles told him. "Watch the door; I've got some work to do."

Liam frowned at him. Stiles shrugged and pointed to one of the walls where his sigil was finished.

"Magic?" Liam asked.

Stiles grinned. "Something like that."

Derek growled again.

"You need to stop doing that," Stiles told Derek. "Come with me and leave Liam alone."

"Is that really Derek?" Liam asked.

"I believe he is," Stiles said, twisting the knife around and starting on a new sigil.

"Why is he back?"

"I don't know. The last time I talked to him he was still in South America."

"You talk to him?" Liam asked, voice high with incredulity.

Stiles froze and turned around. "Have I really not told anyone about talking to Derek?"

"I knew," Lydia said, sliding into the area past Liam and stopping to stare at Derek. Derek bared his teeth at her warningly. She cocked an eyebrow and Derek growled.

"Are you trying to out-stare a magically transformed werewolf?" Stiles asked.

"No, I'm doing it," Lydia told him.

Stiles shook his head and dropped his hand down to Derek's neck and gently tugged the wolf back towards the wall where he was working on the sigil. Lydia huffed at his back.

"You knew that Stiles was talking to Derek?" Liam asked Lydia.

Stiles kept his back to all of them, feeling Derek pressed into his side even if the wolf was watching Lydia and Liam instead.

"Stiles has been talking to Derek?" Mason's voice added to the mix behind him.

Stiles sighed and decided to completely ignore them while he carved power into the wood. It took concentration and just a little push from his spark to make sure they worked exactly like he wanted them to.

"Yes, he has," Lydia said. "No one is surprised by this surely."

There was silence behind Stiles at that and Derek pressed even closer in to his knee. Stiles locked his knee to keep from being pushed over. Sometime later, when Stiles had almost finished the last of the sigilla, Malia and Kira arrived, joining the rest of the group at the entrance. With each new person Derek grew more and more tense next to Stiles. When Stiles was finally done he was able to turn and survey the pack that was already there. They all looked tense and awkward standing together. And Stiles felt separate to them – Derek didn't trust anyone but Stiles. So, Derek had to be more important than feeling like he was actually standing with his pack. They waited a few more minutes, the silence growing tense and awkward, before Scott and Deaton returned.

"Good, good," Deaton said, walking in. "Where is Danny?"

"Coming," Kira said.

Once Deaton was farther into the room the rest of the pack followed him in, keeping Deaton and Stiles between themselves and Derek.

"Here is what we need to do," Deaton said, handing Stiles a spray can of iridescent green paint. "Stiles, you need to spray another sigil on the ground where Derek is going to stand.

Stiles nodded and tried to push Derek away from the spot but he wouldn't budge. So Stiles walked towards the pack and as soon as he was far enough over he turned around, keeping Derek's body behind him as he started to paint the sigil onto the ground. The smell flooded the room and all of the werewolves behind him started to grumble.

"It is necessary to get Mr Hale back," Deaton said quietly – stopping the pack from complaining further.

"Sorry," Danny said, rushing into the cavern panting.

"Perfect timing," Deaton said. "Stiles, try to get Derek to stand over the mark. Everyone else form a circle around them, Scott next to me. Stiles on my other side with Malia next to him. Everyone else can go wherever they would like to."

The pack fell into the circle while Stiles manoeuvred Derek into place. Derek's body vibrating under his hand with what Stiles assumed was a mixture of wariness and barely-contained wolfish fury. He listened to Deaton explaining what was going to happen behind him.

"Stiles and I will be chanting," Deaton told them. "You will all need to hold hands – we cannot break the circle. Stiles and I will be the only ones actually chanting but that power will course through you and when Derek transforms back to himself we are hoping the strength of your abilities along with ours will be enough to break the hold of the curse when the veil is dropped."

"Our abilities?" Liam asked.

"You are all supernatural creatures – banshees, werewolves, and that gives everything that Stiles and I do more power."

"Can I just say," Stiles threw over his shoulder. "How nice it is that you actually explain things now."

"That was our agreement," Deaton said flatly.

Stiles nodded and looked at Derek to explain what the werewolf needed to do. His mind kept flicking back to the agreement though – made years ago when Deaton almost died at the hands of a druid and realised that he needed to develop Stiles' spark into something useful. The agreement had been that Deaton actually had to explain things. It wasn't a complete change but at least now Stiles could trust the vet to tell him enough to keep everyone safe. More, if it was just Stiles and Deaton. But, he pushed the memory away and looked Derek in the eye.

"Derek," he said, willing the wolf to understand. "I am going to leave you in this exact spot. Over this painted sigil, see?" Stiles directed the wolf's head to the sigil and then tugged Derek until he was standing over the paint. "I am going to leave you. I'm going to go and join the circle. But I need you to stay right here while I try to break this curse. You need to stand right here until we're done. There is nothing to be scared of." Derek's eyes looked pleadingly at Stiles and he was hit with a sudden rush of self-consciousness – was he just making a bigger deal of this than he should be. Derek was able to take care of himself; surely Stiles didn't need to protect him like he was. "I'm going to go," he still said, explaining anyway. "And stand over there. Stay right here." Stiles stood up and Derek growled uneasily. "It's going to be fine."

Stiles stepped away, his hands placating; trying to keep Derek in place as he slowly backed towards the gap in the circle. Derek stepped to follow him and Stiles held his hands up higher.

"No, Derek," he said soothingly, as he kept stepping back. "You stay right there and we will help you be yourself again."

Derek's lips slipped back over his teeth but he didn't move.

"It's going to be okay," Stiles told him, as he felt Malia's hand on his back telling him to stop.

Derek growled and Malia pulled her hand away.

"Stay there," Stiles said, straightening up. He grabbed Deaton and Malia's hands tightly. "Let's go."

Deaton nodded and started the chant, Stiles picking up the words thinking about Derek as hard as he could. But the wolf in front of him was pacing, each step agitated and aborted like he wanted nothing more than to leave. To jump over them all and run away. But, his eyes never left Stiles and he knew that Derek was only still here because of him. Stiles kept saying the words, focussing on Derek – his eyes never leaving the green eyes. Then, as the spark inside of Stiles began to pulse, thumping through his body, Derek threw his head back and howled, loudly enough to shake their bones and the pain of it crashed into Stiles like a wave. He watched Derek keep pacing but he knew, _knew_ , that Derek was going to flee. He slammed his hands behind him, making sure that Malia and Deaton were touching before he leap across the distance and slid his hands into the long hair on the sides of Derek's neck. He never stopped chanting as he landed heavily on his knees and grounded Derek. Derek froze, pressing himself tightly into Stiles as the chanting grew deeper, heavier, more frantic until Stiles could actually feel Derek's skin rippling beneath his hands. He wanted to stop to reassure Derek but he knew he couldn't.

It was nothing like the transformation, even in reverse; it was like a pop, like fireworks, and suddenly Stiles was dragged up to his feet as Derek transformed back into himself. Derek's familiar green eyes widened for a moment before they flashed red and he transformed back to the form Stiles remembered from when he'd first met Derek. Stiles' lips kept moving, the chant not stopping now that they might be able to have him back.

Derek lunged at Stiles, and Stiles half thought he was about to be kissed when Derek dropped his head, tucked it into Stiles' neck, and bit down hard.

Stiles threw his head back and screamed as his first drop of blood hit the floor.

 **TBC**

One more chapter, I'm 98% sure.  
...though I do have one extra chapter half planned that is pure smut :) Not sure if I will write that one.


	10. Nemeton

**Nemeton**

Stiles was caught in the scream as power flooded through his body. He was connected – he was overpowered with connection. He could feel every nerve that Derek had sparked with the bite. He felt the power of Derek's wolf under his hands, in his arms, and swirling around him like an aura. He could feel the pack – could almost hear their heartbeats and every breath like a shining ball of energy standing around him. But overwhelming everything else was the Nemeton, it was bombarding his senses more strongly than any other thing. When Stiles cast his mind to the tree he saw not the stump but the great towering tree as it must have once stood. The magic in the roots, in the ghost of the tree, in each ring grown with age was pulsing into Derek, and through him, into Stiles. The magic was deep down in his body right behind the bottom of his breastbone. And Stiles could feel it changing him…unlocking something inside that Stiles hadn't even known was there. But, somehow, even though he could feel Derek's fangs dug down deep in his flesh he knew that he wasn't being turned – at least not into a werewolf.

The power kept growing in heaving waves slamming into Derek and Stiles. Then suddenly it was gone and there was silence. That was the last thing that Stiles remembered; the silence before he fell to the floor, his crash softened by the de-cursed body of Derek.

-)(-)(-

"Stiles," Scott screamed, running over to pull Stiles into his arms as soon as Stiles dropped and the force that had been holding them all in place disappeared. He pulled Stiles away from Derek, pressing his hand into the skin of Stiles' neck and then froze.

"Scott?" Kira asked, pulling at his hand. "You need to stop the bleeding? Wait, where is the wound?"

Scott shrugged. "I don't know."

Lydia elbowed Scott out of the way and tilted Stiles' head towards her. There was a thick smear of blood on his neck but when she swiped it away there was no wound. The skin was red, angry, but it was completely smooth. She pulled him farther away from Derek and then stepped over to the werewolf. He was out cold, and completely back to himself again.

"Did anyone notice his eyes?" Danny asked.

"Yes," Deaton said, "most interesting."

"What?" Mason asked.

"They were red," Scott said quietly. "He's an alpha again."

"He would need to be for that particular rite to have worked," Deaton said.

"What rite?" Scott asked, every set of eyes in the pack turning to him.

Derek bolted up, leaping to his feet, growling loudly as he looked around wildly.

"Derek," Scott said, stepping forward.

Derek's eyes flashed at him. "Stiles?"

Scott's eyes dropped down to the body on the floor. Derek stepped towards Stiles but Scott moved to prevent the other werewolf from getting too close.

"What did you do to him?" Scott asked, ignoring the odd flinch he felt when Derek's eyes flashed at him menacingly. "Why did you bite Stiles?"

"Oh God," Stiles groaned out, arms flailing out and catching Scott on the knee.

"Stiles," Scott said, twisting around to drop down next to his best friend's body. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just help me up," Stiles said, blinking rapidly. "Where's Derek."

"Here," Derek said, looming over him.

"What was that?" Stiles asked him.

"I'm sorry," Derek said, reaching out a hand for Stiles. Stiles gripped it and used his other elbow to heave himself up and off the floor. "I had to do it."

"I assumed as much," Stiles said, swaying slightly on his feet. "But what did you do?"

"He made you his emissary," Deaton said. "And tied you to the Nemeton."

Stiles was still reeling from those words when a heavy wind started blowing through the cavern. Derek shoved Scott out of the way and put himself between Stiles and the entrance. Stiles felt the Nemeton thrumming with power again and he couldn't even dredge up any surprise as he reached out for the tree with his spark. He looked around and clocked each member of his pack and then threw out a protective barrier. For the first time he felt like the barrier was complete and he hadn't even realised there was anything wrong before. Derek stayed in front of Stiles. The wind kept buffering into the area when someone walked in, the air swirling around them. Stiles peered at them over Derek's shoulder and tried to see through the wind. He couldn't make out any clear features only the strangely green-ish skin and spiked black hair.

"Hale," the thing screamed out.

"It's too late," Derek said. "You can't have this tree."

"I can if I kill him," it said sliding closer.

"You can't kill me," Stiles told it, stepping out from around Derek and slapping the wolf's hands away as they tried to hold him back. Stiles walked through the rest of the pack to stand at the front and look at the being as closely as he could. He caught the thing's eyes and smiled. "This is my pack, and this Nemeton and I are connected. You cannot have its power."

"It is not yours," the being said.

"What are you?" Stiles asked. "To think you can take this tree's power."

"I am Meliae," it said, voice dripping with cold-blooded, furious disdain. "This tree was butchered. This tree was neglected, ignored, treated with disdain, and used for evil. This tree holds power from the ancient _Fraxinus_ tree and his pack has desecrated it."

"It was cut down long ago," Derek defended.

Stiles sighed. "Derek, stop trying to help."

"Yes, mutt, stop trying to defend your bloodline's egregious wrongs."

Derek put his hands up. "It is not your Nemeton to take – it is linked to my pack and has been for generations."

"This tree holds the spirit of my kin. I have every right. Your pack should have protected it."

"What is a _Meliae_?" Liam asked, whispering.

" _Meliae_ are the nymphs of the ash tree," Stiles said. "They are said to have been born from the blood spilt when Cronos castrated Uranus. It is said that from them mankind sprang."

"They say truth, I am Meliae. This tree was born of a seed carried in the pocket of a druid that prayed to my kin as they planted it here. The seed came from a tree born from a seed dropped by a tree when our maker was still bleeding. This tree should still be standing tallest in the forest that it seeded."

"The preserve trees grew from this tree?" Stiles asked.

"The power of a Nemeton bleeds into the wilderness around them; including the beasts that shelter under its canopy."

Stiles grabbed onto Derek's elbow to keep him from saying anything.

"His clan should have never allowed this tree to be cut down."

"Agreed," Stiles said, tightening his grip.

"And they should never have allowed the tree's line of protection to have been broken."

"But he has given the tree a protector again."

"A hollow declaration; his love for you will not be enough to keep this tree in your power."

Stiles opened his mouth to talk and then smiled at the way Derek tensed. "We're coming back to that later."

Derek grunted.

"What would make you leave the tree in my power?" Stiles asked.

"The tree should be in the power of the _Meliae_ so that creatures like Hale can never again use its power for their own evil."

"He isn't evil, none of them are," Stiles defended.

"He should never again be allowed to stand beneath its branches."

Stiles frowned. "You would banish him."

"I would have he, and all like him, buried at the base of this tree to feed its next incarnation."

Stiles swallowed thickly. "But, this tree is connected to me now and I'm not a werewolf. I am a spark – I'm going to protect the tree. What do you need me to do to convince you to leave the tree in my power and not murder my friends."

The wind died down around them and Stiles finally got a good look at the being in front of him. He knew from his readings that _Meliae_ were traditionally female but he would never have been able to pick that looking at the vaguely green being in front of him. She tilted her head and looked at him closely.

"You would undertake a trial to remain connected to this tree?"

"Yes," Stiles said, not paying attention to Scott trying to stop him.

"Even knowing that if you fail it will mean death?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Stiles took a deep breath and smiled at her. "What will happen if this tree is connected to a pack, to my spark? It will be balanced in a way it has not been balanced since it was cut down. And if there is balance with the Nemeton, then Beacon Hills will no longer be a beacon to the supernatural. We will all be safe."

"True."

"And how long have you been in Beacon Hills?" Stiles asked, curious.

"The pass of two moons."

"Right, well then you don't know about my past. You don't know that we, this pack behind you, along with the people we have lost, have been protecting this town and the people here since I was sixteen. And if being connected to the Nemeton and being irrevocably tied to the pack and this town is what I need to do to ensure that my father is never in danger from another Darach or that I don't get taken over by a Nogitsure again then I will do it and I will pass any trial you want to put in front of me."

The being rushed at him, wind swirling around him, and he felt his hold on Derek loosening. He felt the _Meliae_ standing before him but he couldn't actually see it. Then he felt hands settling on either side of his face. The wind was blowing so loudly he thought he could hear it speak. _Let me see…let me in…prove it to me…show me your love for this balance_ …Stiles realised what the _Meliae_ wanted and opened himself to her. His breath caught in his chest at the sudden onslaught of his own memories. At first it was all about the years since Scott had been bitten, but as the memories grew closer to today he could feel something else in the connection – the _Meliae_ and its own memories open to him and he couldn't resist wandering into her memories, for it was a she, and he was transported back through forests of time to Ancient Greece, to the hills of Britain, to the rainforests of Tasmania where the mountain ash grew, and to this preserve and this _Meliae_ and the journey through his memories of Derek – only Derek.

"You have protected this town," the _Meliae_ told him. "To the detriment of yourself."

"I have suffered but I did it for my family and friends that live here."

"You left."

"And I came back."

"Derek left."

"And he came back."

"And if he leaves again will you stay here?"

"He and I are only friends." Stiles said, automatically.

"Answer the question I asked, not the one you think will distract me," the _Meliae_ said angrily.

"I…I don't know. I suppose, if I am connected to this tree; then, no, I won't leave. Not for any period of time."

"But you would go to New Zealand?"

"How do you know about that?"

"I am in your mind. You want this tree, you said you would pass my trial."

"Then, yes, I would go to New Zealand on a holiday."

"And you would carry a seed from this tree in your pocket everyday of your life to remain connected to it when you can't feel its power."

"Yes."

"And you would train another emissary to follow you when you die?"

"Yes."

"And you will have your body buried in the roots of this tree to feed it forever?"

"Yes."

"And you will honour the old tree deities?"

"Yes."

"Then I will leave you here as this tree's guardian until the shoots you seed on the tree grow to the sun and if you have honoured your agreements I will leave you and your pack as guardians."

"Okay."

"Do you know how to seed the shoots?"

Stiles mentally shrugged and the _Meliae_ pushed the knowledge into Stiles' mind.

"Oh," Stiles said, surprised.

"Yes, do you agree?"

"How much time do I have?"

"Until the beast transforms next."

"Tomorrow?" Stiles asked, worried.

There were a few minutes of silence. "I shall give you until the full moon following that."

"And would every person who is connected to the Nemeton have to do that?"

"No, it is to start the tree regrowing. It should never have to be done again. If this tree were to be cut down again, even worse events would befall this town and the lands and people surrounding it."

"We will do everything we can to protect it."

"The wave of man's destructiveness is a tsunami on this land."

Stiles couldn't argue with that comment. But he did know what he wanted to ask. "What changed your mind?"

The _Meliae_ grew very still even as the wind grew more ferocious around them. "What do you think makes you worthy of this task."

"I…will try my hardest to protect this pack, this town, and the tree if it is under my protection."

The _Meliae_ placed her hand on his chest. "Because you care beyond your own safety."

The wind around him started to fade and he felt the connection slipping between them. He blinked rapidly when the wind stopped.

"Stiles," Derek and Scott asked, voices worried.

"I will see you again," the _Meliae_ said, sliding away and out of the room suddenly.

"She is going to give me a trial run," Stiles told them absently, frowning.

"Stiles," Derek said, wrapping a hand around his elbow. "Are you okay?"

"Is he okay?" Scott growled, yanking Derek away. Derek let go but not fast enough and Stiles stumbled over after them. "You bit him without his knowledge or consent, you put him in danger. How can you ask if he is okay?"

"Scott," Derek said, dropping his eyes. "I didn't mean to do it."

"How can you say that?" Scott asked.

"I," Derek shrugged awkwardly. "It's hard to explain. I didn't want to do hurt Stiles."

"What happened?" Stiles asked, trying to take control of what was happening so they could find out the truth without the accusations.

"When I bit you?" Derek asked.

"When you came back to Beacon Hills," Stiles prompted. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Derek looked uncomfortable. "I came back to Beacon Hills and went straight to the house. That's when I caught the _Meliae's_ trail. I thought about calling Scott and you but she caught me before I could and I was stuck here fully transformed. I wasn't fully myself though."

"You were very distrustful of the pack," Stiles said quietly.

Derek nodded. "I couldn't see them as anything but a threat," he explained. "But you were…I almost knew you were Stiles."

Stiles watched Derek closely as he spoke, he wanted to push and ask more, but he also knew he needed to wait.

"I knew I needed to get someone's attention," Derek said. "And I knew that by giving you those things I would be able to get your attention and even though I knew you were safe and that you were who I needed to get here I didn't know why. When you arrived I knew I needed to protect you. When the curse lifted I reacted and I am sorry for biting you without talking to you first. It is a heavy burden and I shouldn't have forced it on you."

"Why did you?" Stiles asked quietly.

"When she changed me, before I lost who I am, she told me what she was going to do on the full moon."

"What was she going to do?"

"She was going to kill the pack and use our blood and bodies in a ceremony to get the Nemeton to sprout new shoots."

Stiles wasn't surprised, he had known that from what the _Meliae_ said but he needed the pack to know what had happened.

"Deaton," Stiles said, not looking away from Derek. "Is everything settled with the curse?"

"Yes," Deaton said.

"Then I think Derek and I need to talk."

"We are not done," Scott said.

"No, we aren't," Lydia threw in. "Derek's an alpha and now you are tied to him but you are in Scott's pack."

"What does it mean that you're an emissary?" Danny asked.

"Or that you're tied to this tree?" Mason asked.

"And that Derek bit you?" Liam threw in.

"How can you just accept his behaviour?" Scott asked.

Stiles took a deep breath. "Derek?"

"I am an alpha, there was an issue with a werewolf I met in Australia and I stopped him before he hurt anyone else. His pack chose to migrate to another pack rather than stay with me but they did not challenge me and were pleased to no longer be under his power. I've been an alpha again for almost six months."

"You didn't tell me," Stiles said, unable to hold it in.

"I didn't," Derek agreed, not explaining further.

"And you didn't tell me you were in Australia, why not?"

"You came to Beacon Hills with all of the presents you gave to Stiles," Malia said, Derek didn't argue with her. "So, you came back to give them all to Stiles. Which means you lied to keep it a surprise and you came back to win Stiles…as your mate."

Derek coloured.

"If," Stiles said, jumping in quickly. "There are any more sudden realisations anyone has about Derek and I keep them to yourselves, he and I should really get to say all of this stuff ourselves."

"I did," Derek said quietly to Malia. Stiles turned and gaped at him. Derek pushed on, not giving Stiles more than a passing glance. "My biting him had nothing to do with turning him. It was an old ceremony that occurs between alpha and the emissary. It happens at the roots of the Nemeton because the power of the tree is linked to the strength of the pack, when a pack has an emissary. Most packs never have an emissary. Scott for instance couldn't have one because he is a made wolf – if his pack lived in one area, seeded the land with their blood and bodies for a few generations eventually they would be able to form a bond like that. Only I could protect the area because I'm the Hale."

"What about me?" Malia asked.

"You are a Hale by blood," Derek said. "I'm not sure if the ritual would have worked for you."

"It would not," Deaton offered. "She is not an alpha."

"As for being an alpha," Derek said. "I have no intention of building my own pack; I recognise Scott's position as alpha, and Stiles' ties to him."

"Except he is your emissary," Scott said.

"He is the Hale pack emissary," Derek agreed. "Because this land is Hale land, there are more Hale werewolves buried in this preserve that even I know about. Stiles is the Hale pack emissary but that is not all that he is because the emissary is tied to an area – tied to a pack because that pack bleeds into the earth to tie themselves to the land. That is why well established packs are always stronger, not just because they are family but because their power is tied to the land, to the kin that feed the trees that surround us when we fight. Stiles, as the emissary is tied to Beacon Hills and all of the lands that surround this town and the Nemeton."

"That's fascinating," Stiles said, without thinking, and then shrugged at the rest of the pack. "It is, there isn't much written about emissaries."

"And you haven't asked Deaton?" Danny asked.

"I haven't had any cause to," Stiles explained, "there have been more pressing questions."

"But it doesn't change the fact that you're connected to the Hale pack," Scott said, voice almost whiny.

"And you have a Hale in your pack," Malia said, logically.

"And if you would like, Scott," Derek told him, eyes flicking to Stiles. "I will swear my loyalty to you."

"Would that-" Scott started.

"No," Stiles interrupted quickly. "He can't be your alpha; it would break the power of your line to the Nemeton."

Derek frowned at Stiles, and he could feel the weight of Deaton's stare on his back as well but Stiles refused to back down.

"I," Derek started but Deaton jumped in over the top of him.

"Stiles has a point, you cannot submit to Scott as your alpha but you have already entered into an unbreakable connection with his pack through your mutual bond with Stiles."

"Mutual?" Scott asked.

Deaton's lips quirked. "Scott you have a familial bond with Stiles, whether through blood or not, and Derek has an emissary bond. Both are as strong as the other."

"And if no challenge is made," Stiles said. "Then there will not be a problem."

Scott looked at Stiles intensely, and Stiles tried his hardest to ignore the vehement message in Scott's expression that there would definitely be a problem, Scott was very unhappy with what had happened, and that they needed to have a 'talk' about Derek and everything else. Stiles kept his eyes as uncomprehending as possible.

"Now, that we've sorted out that I'm the emissary, and through me the Nemeton can regrow and be at balance again which solidifies the peace we're been enjoying on tenterhooks for the last couple of years, and that Derek has no plans to steal me away to his pack or to turn me into a werewolf, I think we're done."

"Yes," Lydia jumped in over everyone else. "We are definitely done."

Scott opened his mouth and Kira grabbed his arm.

"We are," she said, giving Scott a significant look.

"I can't believe you're just going to forgive him," Liam said, stepping in front of Scott. "He bit you."

"Yes," Stiles agreed. "But that isn't something that the pack needs to talk about; Derek and I will talk about it."

"But," Liam started. Mason grabbed his arm and yanked at it until Liam shut up.

"Right," Stiles said, "wonderful. We've succeeded in breaking Derek's curse, we've secured the safety of the town, and it's not even time for dinner yet. See you all on Friday night." Stiles grabbed Derek's elbow and dragged the werewolf behind him away from the Nemeton and towards his jeep before anyone in the pack took it upon themselves to follow them.

"Stiles?" Derek asked, as Stiles pushed him into the passenger seat.

"We're going somewhere to talk."

Derek nodded with the hint of a smile.

 **TBC**

I was going to have Derek and Stiles talk at the Nemeton, but the pack got very vocal and in the way. Probably rightly too given everything that went down. But this is the end of most of the story's conflict. Next chapter is going to be quite fun - I love awkward Derek talking about feelings. So, because this chapter got so long I decided to split it so that I could update and you wouldn't have to wait so long. I hope you enjoyed it.


	11. So This Is Why

Sorry for the delay - I got distracted by FitzMack and Agents of SHIELD but I'm almost done. There will just be a little epilogue (smutty side fic involved) after this and then we're done. I have to have Derek and Stiles cement their bond with the Nemeton and get it to shoot again.

 **So This Is Why**

It took Derek most of the drive to realise.

His focus was on Stiles next to him – he had had a plan. He'd been working on the plan for over a year. He and Stiles had been talking since the moment the human had worked out he was in South America. And Cora had been very vocal about it from the first phone call. But, Derek had had no plans to come back to Beacon Hills then even though he liked still being in touch with Stiles. From the whole pack in Beacon Hills, the only one he would have kept answering the phone for, replying to emails from, or 'smiling stupidly' in response to messages from, it could only be Stiles. Then Stiles had finished university, then he'd decided to move back to Beacon Hills with plans of his life there. He was getting his PhD online, he was going to keep writing books that were almost too close to truth, and he was going to learn everything there was to know from Deaton to keep his friends and the pack safe. It was the part of the plan that Stiles never really talked about that made Derek itch. That was when he sat down with Cora and talked to her about _his_ plan. She'd just laughed and told him it was about fucking time and promised to visit him in Beacon Hills sometimes.

So, Derek had started with his plan. He'd gone to India, he'd gone to Tasmania to a place in the woods so remote he couldn't hear anyone – not something he had thought possible on such a little island. He'd travelled around collecting all of the hard to get things that Stiles talked about in email conversations and three in the morning phone calls when Derek was struggling to sleep or Stiles was too buzzed from whatever he'd been taking to help him concentrate to actually sleep. Some of it had been easy to find. Some of it had cost Derek a lot of money, or Hale family good will. Then he'd been ready to come home and it had all fallen apart.

Stiles turned to look at him as they turned into his street and Derek noticed the aborted little move from Stiles, his eyes flicking down and then abruptly up again. Derek was unapologetically watching Stiles and he saw his eyes do the same thing a couple of times – always aborted just below his chest. Derek finally followed his eyes down to his naked chest…and the rest of him.

"I'm naked," Derek said softly, tensing.

"Yep," Stiles said, his eyes flicking halfway down Derek again and then back to the road.

"The whole time?"

Stiles shrugged. "I would assume."

Derek dropped his head. "Well, this could be embarrassing."

"Could be?"

"I'm a werewolf, pretty comfortable being naked, but I generally like to know when I'm that exposed." Derek said, thinking about dropping his hand down over his penis but by now there was no point.

"The rest of the guys in the pack are shirtless more often than they wear shirts," Stiles said, voice a little off. Derek listened a little harder and could hear the stutter to his breathing and slightly elevated heartbeat. "Didn't really think about it when you transformed. I didn't even notice until we were in the car and driving."

Derek ran through a list of things to say but none of them were right, so he just reached into the back of Stiles' car and dropped the jacket he found there over his lap. "One of the things that comes with being part of a werewolf pack is the loss of physical barriers like that."

Stiles nodded and Derek looked, let his eyes flash a little to see the heat and flush of blood sweeping up his neck so Derek cast his mind around for something else to talk about. "How is the new book going?"

Stiles flicked his head around to gape at Derek for a second before going back to the road. "You're ridiculous, and I've written myself into this corner – Megan can't leave now but there is no way she should stay. It doesn't fit her life or my plans for her. But, how can I make her leave when there is Logan and now I've got Thomas and Sam to deal with who are not going to just accept her coming home alone now. I know what you're doing, and I'm not a 'prude' but I just didn't want to look when you didn't actually give me permission to."

"You can look," Derek told him easily.

Stiles barked out a laugh. "That's kind of putting the cart before the horse."

"The tree nymph outed my feelings and Malia worked out what I was doing with the gifts. The horse is gone."

Stiles laughed. "But I'd still like to actually talk to you about it first. And you should get the option to offer to show me your gentlemanly attributes not have them magically exposed by a _Meliae_."

"Gentlemanly attributes?" Derek asked, not meaning for it to be the thing he said.

"Cock just seemed a bit crass for the conversation," Stiles told him, turning into the driveway in front of his house. "Good, Dad's a work. Best keep the jacket; Mrs Davis next door will either have a heart attack if she sees you naked or she's going to take photos."

Derek's eyebrows rose high. "Is that the same Mrs Davis that used to work at the bakery?"

"Yep."

"She'd take a photo of me naked? She's in her eighties."

"And she sits on her front porch when the pack is here after a run. Occasionally, with her little old lady friends."

"You approve," Derek said, finally judging that tone in Stiles' voice.

Stiles grinned, quick and evil, and then laughed. "I can't help be pay respect to her for it. They are all exhibitionists who know she is there and there is nothing gross in her looking. She always offers us lemonade."

"Do you have something I can wear when we get inside?" Derek asked, opening the door to the jeep and dropping the jacket as he slid out of the car.

"Yes, you're about the same size as Mason now – I have spare clothes for everyone upstairs."

Derek waved at Mrs Davis' house and then tucked the jacket around himself again and came around the car to stand next to Stiles. Stiles eyed him for a second and then turned for the house.

"Do you want a shower?"

Derek hadn't even thought of the option before, but now it was in his head he wanted a shower desperately.

"I will take that expression as a yes."

"Please," Derek said, causing Stiles to smile sharply at him.

Stiles nodded and turned around to lead Derek into the house and upstairs to the bathroom. He disappeared and came back with a towel and a stack of clothes.

Derek took the pile. "Thanks."

"I'll be downstairs when you're done, you hungry?"

"I could eat."

"Okay."

"Stiles?" Stiles stopped and turned to look at Derek. "Something cooked?"

Stiles grinned at him broadly and nodded. "No rare venison?"

Derek frowned. "I…gave you some venison, didn't I?"

"Yes, an entire deer. Scott butchered it for me…gleefully, and Dad's happy because I let him have steak."

"Good," Derek said, pushing the door closed. He heard Stiles pause on the other side of the door and then turn to walk downstairs as Derek dropped the jacket and walked into the shower. He stayed there a little longer than he normally would but it felt good to be clean from something other than rainwater. His body was still slightly damp when he pulled on the clothes Stiles had given him. They smelled faintly of pack, slightly more strongly of Mason, but they smelled mostly of Stiles, from being washed with his clothes and sitting in his closet. Derek took a deep breath and left the bathroom to go downstairs. He found Stiles in the middle of the kitchen pouring eggs into a frypan and talking to himself quietly. He was curious, but he had learned that sometimes eavesdropping on people ended badly and for once he was actually going to listen to his father's voice in his head telling him not to court trouble.

"Smells good," Derek told him.

"Should, this is good bacon, that I hid inside a tub of sugar-free, dairy-free 'ice cream' which Dad thinks I don't eat because I bought it for him so he hides his ice cream behind it. If only he knew."

Derek slid into one of the kitchen chairs and rested his chin on his fist, watching Stiles. "I've been meaning to ask, what's wrong with your dad? I might be able to help; there are some herbs and remedies that Juan might be able to send."

Stiles shrugged. "His cholesterol is a little high, but he's actually really healthy for his age, job, and general being my dad-ness. I just want to keep him that way – so he has to eat tofu once a week, we both limit the amount of red meat we eat, and I pretend that Annie at his office doesn't buy him curry and hamburgers sometimes. It's our thing."

"I'm glad. I like your dad."

"Me too," Stiles said, smiling at himself.

"I got back into town and was running through the woods," Derek started, watching the muscles in Stiles' arm flex as he stirred the scrambled eggs. "I smelt something off – I didn't intend to go looking alone but I must have passed too close to the Nemeton. I saw the _Meliae_ and she said 'Hale' and then I was a wolf. It took me a long time to even get my bearings. I think I was in the area near the roots for at least a couple of days before I went outside."

Stiles pulled toast out of the toaster and threw some more in before he turned around fully and looked at Derek. "Did you know who you were?"

"No, it was like there was something blocking me but I picked up your trail in the woods, and I remembered your smell, and I remembered that if I got your attention that you would help. Then it was just a matter of giving you the things I already had for you. I didn't really remember you but I knew that I needed to give you all of those things and I knew it would help. It's all a muddled, confused blur really."

Stiles nodded. The toast popped behind him and he turned around again. "I'm glad you were able to get our attention." He finished putting everything on the plates and slid them onto the table.

"Me too," Derek said, looking down at the food and smiling appreciatively at Stiles.

They ate almost silently, neither of them knowing where to start, or quite what to say that wouldn't lead to something more…than either of them were quite sure they wanted to jump into.

"I had a plan," Derek said eventually, quietly, watching Stiles closely.

"A plan?" Stiles asked. "Did it have something to do with being cursed?"

"No, it was a plan to come back and tell you that I have feelings for you and that emails and phone calls aren't enough anymore."

Stiles' face coloured. "Oh, that's…that is good, Derek. I have been trying to work out how to invite myself down there for a holiday…I might have possibly had plans on making a move while I was there. Dad keeps giving me these 'talks' about how he didn't mind being alone when I was away at university and how good he had gotten with skype and how much he was looking forward to travelling when he retired."

Derek smiled. "Cora just told me I was a fuckwit and should make a move."

Stiles laughed. "I always like Cora."

"She likes you too."

"I'm very likable."

Derek smiled at him gently. "You are."

Stiles let out a long puff of breath. "Wow."

Derek's eyebrows rose in question.

"I just…I never actually thought we'd be here. I never thought you'd be looking at me like that. And I never thought anyone would have gone to all of the trouble of hunting down magical items I mentioned to them in passing." Stiles shrugged, blinking tiredly. "I kind of figured that I would have been the one to-"

"Make a grand gesture," Derek cut in. "I think that's why it's so important that I'm the one to make one."

"What?"

"You make gestures like that without even thinking about it – your selfless and giving, and you know that others will never match that even though you want someone to. And eventually you resent it and yourself for being the person who always puts yourself out there." Stiles looked at Derek questioningly. "Cora's studying to be a psychiatrist – she wrote a whole paper on the pack here."

"Right, forgot about that for a moment. Is she psycho analysing you too?"

Derek shrugged. "I encourage her not to but I'm fairly certain she always is."

"So you decided that I'd resent you in the end and decided to get in first?"

"No," Derek said. "I wanted to show you that I'd changed and that I think you're worth the grand gesture."

Stiles reached over the table for Derek's wrist and pulled the werewolf closer so that he could press a soft kiss to his mouth. "Thank you."

Derek smiled, leaning closer to kiss Stiles again but before he could he felt a yawn coming over him and he ended up dropping his head down and yawning so widely his jaw cracked and Stiles kissed his forehead and then pulled back with a laugh.

"When did you last sleep properly?" Stiles asked.

Derek shrugged. "I'm not sure – I slept a little while I was the wolf but you never sleep well when transformed – your body is almost always on alert, it's a survival thing. I wasn't safe out there."

"Would you like to go upstairs and sleep?"

Derek shook his head. "I'd like to talk to you instead."

"I could use a quick shower but maybe we could go upstairs and keep talking, I could use a nap too. It's been a long night and sleeping down there wasn't exactly restful."

"Can I use your computer while you shower? Or something, I just want to email Cora and let her know I'm alive. I have no idea where my phone ended up. I should have contacted her when I first got here. I'm a little surprised she hasn't shown up to check up on me."

"Sure," Stiles said, grabbing his laptop and entering his password. "Come up when you're ready."

Derek logged into his email and sent Cora an email telling her he'd call the next day and everything was fine. Then he spotted one from her – she was congratulating him on the orgy of sex he must be having to not have responded to any of her emails. That explained why she had not been worried about him – she thought she'd been locked in a room with Stiles since he'd arrived. There was no need to disabuse her of that idea until he had time to actually talk to her – for now he just wanted to be able to go up and fall asleep somewhere safe – and he knew he'd be safe here with Stiles. Even more so when the rest of the pack arrived – and he knew they would. He heard the shower shut off upstairs and waited a few minutes for

Stiles to be dressed and settled before he closed the laptop and headed for the stairs. Stiles was making his bed when Derek knocked awkwardly on the open door.

"It's just a friendly nap," Stiles said. "You don't need to look so nervous."

Derek chuckled quietly and shrugged.

"I mean this time of course," Stiles told him. "I would very much like unfriendly naps in the future…you know what I mean."

"I went to Tasmania," he said, walking over to the bed and looking down at the neatly made covers, then shrugged, and pulled them back and slipped in, the air rising around him smelling like Stiles as he sunk into the mattress. "I went to this forest, ancient and silent from the world. I walked into it until I couldn't hear anything but the animals and the wind. It was amazing."

"And you got my mountain ash."

"And I got your mountain ash." Derek agreed, watching Stiles as he closed the curtains tightly and then slipped into bed next to Derek. "I kind of wished that you were there and you got to pick it yourself."

"That would have been nice," Stiles said. "Maybe one day I can get the wood to make a second bat."

"I think that can be arranged."

"And you took it back to South America with you?"

"No, I had it delivered here, I bought a place that backs onto the reserve a year ago – the mountain ash was sitting in my greenhouse along with a range of seedlings. It wasn't easy to break into the thing while I was a wolf – I hope the plants will survive."

"I gave them a little help – they'll be fine," Stiles assured him. "You bought a house?"

"A part of me didn't want to come back – I'm not sure if this place and I should be together but I'm back for good."

"Why?"

"You," Derek said plainly yawning widely. "And also me a little bit – this is where I grew up, where my family memories are, and I'd like to have some more good ones here."

"I would definitely like to help with that," Stiles said, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Derek's closed eyes. "Go to sleep, it's safe and quiet. I'll still be here when you wake up."

Derek intended to fight sleep for a little while longer – he wanted to ask Stiles questions, ask him what he thought of the presents but he could barely keep his thoughts on what he wanted and before he knew it the world was slow and quiet and he was asleep.

 **TBC**


	12. A Talk We Need To Have

It's September 14 - exactly seven months since I was supposed to have this finished. It was a Valentine's Day present after all, but here it is finally. Luckily SpaghettiTacos has forgiven me.

 **A Talk We Need To Have**

Stiles placed a plate of bruschetta down in front of Derek with a flourish.

Derek frowned at him. "What did you do?"

Stiles smiled. "I made dinner, there is pizza in the oven and I made eclairs for dessert."

"What did you do _wrong_?"

Stiles crossed his arms across his chest and looked at Derek. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You made me dinner," Derek said.

"Yes."

"And that means you've done something wrong."

"Hey," Stiles said indignantly. "I make food all the time."

"You hate uncooked tomatoes."

"But you love bruschetta."

"Exactly."

"And we've only been dating for two weeks," Stiles said, with a shrug. "We're in the honeymoon phase and I'm just trying to impress you."

Derek was not convinced but he picked up one of the pieces of bruschetta anyway. "Are you eating this too?"

Stiles shook his head. A few seconds later the buzzer went off and Stiles stood up, he came back with a plate of garlic bread and sat down across from Derek.

"See, nothing strange here," Stiles said. "I made me garlic bread and you bruschetta because I am a caring and thoughtful boyfriend and that is it."

Derek looked completely disbelieving. "I know that you're caring and thoughtful and whatever you did I'll probably forgive you. And if you are worried about impressing me then you don't need to – I came back here just for you, Stiles."

Stiles stood up and kissed Derek passionately. "What the heck did I do to get you?"

Derek kissed him, tasting garlic and Stiles, and smiled into the kiss. "You're Stiles."

"I need you to have sex with me on top of the Nemeton," Stiles blurted.

Derek huffed out a breath and smiled. The last two weeks had been everything he'd not-so-secretly been hoping for. They had slept together, Derek sleeping for over a day in Stiles' bed while the pack had apparently met in Stiles' lounge room, Stiles' dad came home and had everything explained, and Deaton checked on him while he slept. In the end, he'd woken up just as the sun was coming up a full day later, Stiles asleep on the bed next to him. Derek had snuck out of the room, leaving Stiles to sleep and then realised he didn't want to leave until he'd spoken to the other man. He had frozen on the stairs and then the Sheriff was walking down behind him, taking him into the kitchen, and making him coffee and pancakes without a single comment. Derek and Stiles had talked, about the fact that Derek had come back for Stiles, about the fact that Stiles had been going to come to South America, about the fact that Stiles wanted to date him as well. They'd spent the day together before Stiles kicked Derek out with the order to be back in an hour to take him on a proper date. He'd gone back to the house he'd bought and wrinkled his nose at the smell of off food coming from the kitchen. He threw away all of the food, taking the bag outside immediately and trying to work out what day it was and when his rubbish was going to be picked up. He'd gone up to shower and change and then stopped on the way to buy Stiles a bouquet of multi-coloured daisies and a box of chocolates. He pulled up in front of the house a little less than an hour after he'd left and realised he was nervous…and hadn't called to make a booking at any restaurant. Luckily, he'd planned out a couple…seventeen, dates for he and Stiles to have, so he didn't feel completely unprepared. Stiles had answered the door and beamed at Derek's offerings. Derek had been relieved that the other man had taken them the way they were intended. He wanted to spoil Stiles. And he wanted Stiles to relish being spoiled. Derek had suggested his top choice for a date but Stiles had shaken his head, put the flowers and chocolates away, and then slipped his arm through Derek's elbow and started walking. Stiles took Derek on a tour around town – talking about the things that had changed since Derek had last been here, and then had taken Derek to Stiles' favourite Chinese restaurant. After dinner they had walked around the preserve for half the night – before Derek walked Stiles home and kissed him on the cheek before he left. Stiles showed up at his house the next day with coffee and pastries and they hadn't spent a day without seeing one another, sharing at least one meal, since. Derek hadn't had the opportunity to use any of his pre-prepared date ideas yet.

And now, here they were, sixteen days later, and they hadn't done anything more than kiss on the couch, and Stiles was asking him to have sex with him on top of a mystical tree stump.

"Why?" Derek asked.

"So that I can _seed_ ," Stiles made a face, "the tree back to life."

"When?"

"The full moon."

"We haven't had sex before," Derek said, a sinking feeling taking over his chest. "Is that why?"

"No," Stiles stepped closer and caught Derek's wrist, stroking his thumb over Derek's pulse point. "No, that's not why at all, I would never manipulate you like that. I promise, I am not any of them, those people who used you. We haven't had sex because we, you and I, have not had sex and there is nothing wrong with that and there is no rush, and you and I get to make that choice for ourselves. Except, I hadn't told you about this but now I have to tell you about this because I kind of thought by now we would have had sex and if we had have had sex then this would be something different."

"Stiles," Derek said. "Please just tell me what is going on, explain why we need to do this."

"The _Meliae_ demanded that I give the Nemeton new life and to do that I need to make sure the tree shoots again. To do that I need to seed the tree."

"By ejaculating on it," Derek said, trying to get to the details.

"Yes."

"Where do I come into it?" Derek asked. "Wouldn't masturbation be enough?"

"No," Stiles shook his head sadly. "I wish it would, I do not want to ask you to do something you don't want to do. And I really, really don't want to try and use us having sex for a ritual or my own power, or anything that isn't you and I wanting to have sex."

Derek could feel the pain starting to radiate from between his shoulder blades and he knew how tense he was. "Then what is enough?"

"You are the Hale," Stiles said. "I am your emissary, you and I are needed to reseed the tree."

Derek nodded.

"But I don't want to push you into anything that you don't want."

"You think I don't want to have sex with you?" Derek asked.

"I want you to have sex with me when you are ready to have sex with me."

"But we need to have sex on the Nemeton during the next full moon?"

"Yes," Stiles said. "I agr-dammit."

The buzzer on the oven was going off and Stiles looked helplessly at the kitchen. Derek stood up and walked into the other room – opening the oven and pulling out both of the pizzas.

Stiles had followed him. "I agreed because I wasn't thinking about what the repercussions were, and I wasn't thinking about the fact it would make me like them."

"You are nothing like them," Derek said, believing it with every part of his body and the tension eased between his shoulder blades.

"I agreed because I thought it would be enough if we both masturbated on the tree. But I've been looking into everything I could about the Nemeton and, well…the _Meliae_ did show us both, together."

"It showed you us having sex?"

"To showed me what I needed to do to bring the Nemeton back to life."

"And now you are telling me," Derek said, pausing and thinking this through while he viciously cut up the pizza. "A full two weeks ahead of time, that we would need to have sex on top of the Nemeton, so that we could talk about it and decide how to move forward and that means that you are nothing like anyone else, Stiles."

"I'm sorry."

"For telling me? For not telling me before? For agreeing to something that the _Meliae_ asked of you when I had, against your will, used you in a magical rite? For being the Emissary that I made you? What are you sorry for that you should actually be sorry for?"

Stiles made an inarticulate noise.

"Exactly," Derek turned around, and walked towards Stiles, stopping close enough that he could feel the other man's breath on his neck. "You did everything right, you don't need to apologise." Derek pulled Stiles into a chaste kiss and then pulled back, smiling at the other man. "I have wanted to have sex with you for a long time. I still want to have sex with you. I put us in this situation, and we are going to be just fine getting out of the situation."

"I agreed to the _Meliae's_ request."

"And I made you the Emissary."

"Are you sure?" Stiles asked.

"Do you believe that I find you sexually attractive?" Stiles nodded. "Do you believe that I am in love with you?" Stiles nodded again, a slight smile in his eyes. "Do you understand that you brought this to me now, two weeks before we need to do anything, and by doing that you gave me a choice?" Stiles was still for several seconds so Derek lifted his hands, curling them around Stiles' skull and gently encouraging the other man to nod. "Then you have nothing to apologise for. Now, let's take this pizza into the other room, and you can seduce me like a good boyfriend and we can watch a movie and make out on the couch and do whatever we want to do."

"You're…you…I was so worried," Stiles admitted, voice low.

"Thank you."

Stiles frowned up at him.

"No one has ever been worried about me, like this, before."

Stiles threw his arms around Derek and pulled the werewolf into a tight, breath-stealing hug. "I wish I could go back in time and protect you from all of them."

Derek smiled into Stiles' neck and allowed himself one moment to wish for that too – it would have been a grand world but it wouldn't be right. "We can't change the past, I have had a number of therapists drill that into me, but we can change our behaviour so we don't repeat it."

"I love you," Stiles said, breathlessly. "And your therapists, and pizza. Now, you said something about kisses and cuddles on the couch."

Derek pulled back from Stiles and smiled. He grabbed the pizza and followed the other man back into the lounge room. they bypassed the table and went straight to the couch. He could still smell the nervous guilt on Stiles but he would push that out of the human's mind by the end of the night.

-)(-)(-

Derek didn't think about the conversation when they did end up having sex. It was the farthest thing from his mind. All his was thinking about was Stiles…and sometimes about himself, but he did try to keep Stiles at the front of his mind.

Days had passed since the conversation, and there were days before the full moon. It wasn't until the next morning, after Derek had made them both waffles and taken them in to Stiles…and they'd eaten them cold an hour or so later. Then Derek remembered, but he stopped himself before he could think about the night before as anything other than the next step in what they had been doing since he'd come back to Beacon Hills. When he had been travelling up, returning home, he'd thought about Stiles kissing him immediately and in at least one of the 'returning home' fantasies he'd ended up on his knees in front of Stiles, or on his back, or any of the multitude of positions he'd been thinking about. So this had nothing to do with anything other than wanting Stiles, loving Stiles.

He waited another day before he said anything. He would have waited longer, but Stiles had started twitching nervously the next night at dinner. And the human had been hesitant when Derek kissed him – making a move to repeat the previous night's activities, so he'd just dragged Stiles to bed to watch a movie and fall asleep together. The next morning, when Stiles was still twitchy, Derek realised why and walked over, kissing Stiles on the forehead, hands on either side of his neck just under the ears.

"What?" Stiles said.

"You're being twitchy," Derek told him. "Stop worrying about it. We had sex because we wanted to, right?"

Stiles immediately started nodding, Derek's hands still wrapped around his flesh. He could feel the steady beat of Stiles' heartbeat under his palms.

"Then don't worry about it, and just enjoy it, and when the full moon comes around we'll go to the Nemeton and we'll do what we need to do because it's not about having to do it – we're only doing it there because we need to, we're doing it because we want to."

Stiles flopped down a little in relief and then launched himself at Derek and they christened his kitchen floor.

 **The End** (there will be a separate fic put up in a few days which has the ritual – I don't like changing rating in the middle of stories so you can check out Emissary Emissions if you want the Nemeton ritual sex smut)

Seriously, Emissary Emissions – I'm so proud of that title!


End file.
